Repletum
by Tom Ayto the Frist
Summary: He would always reach out, unbidden and eager, to the monster before him, with promises of happiness and friendship on his lips. And Midousuji both hates it and loves it. Rejected ideas for a MidouSaka Fic, short stories/ideas/scenes with no rhyme or reason, and certainly no order. Uploading every monday until the end of the year.
1. Coward

Started 10/01/2014

Finished: 10/02/2014

Revision: 10/05/2014

Mood Music: Afraid of the Dark by Phildel

* * *

**Repletum**

Chapter 01: Coward:

In which Midousuji runs away in the presence of a glasses wearing nerd.

* * *

"That man is not truly brave who is afraid either to seem or to be, when it suits him, a coward" - Edgar Allan Poe

He was caught, like a fly in a spider's trap. He had been lured in by the intricate weaving of the web, and now he was imprisoned, awaiting a long and painful death.

He looked at his captor, misleading bright eyes watching him, focused on him like any prison guard would.

There was evil in him, Midousuji knew it. People were gross and disgusting, filled with trash and sewage. His guard had it too, he knew. It was just proving to be difficult to find. But when he found the filth, oh would he enjoy digging through it and flinging at that sickeningly sweet smile.

"Gross." He muttered out loud.

Onoda Sakamichi blinked at him. "Uh… Okay?"

Midousuji ignored him, and stared on the door, waiting for the man with the stupid thin mustache to return.

He should have predicted that Sakamichi would not have reacted in a typical, sane way with him. The moment they met each other's eyes, Midousuji felt the buzz of panic, because he remembered the last time they had really interacted at the last Interhigh, that last leg of the race. It had been almost a year since then, but he remembered it. He remembered that Sakamichi was strange, not typical, not standard and therefore he should have known that he wouldn't react in a typical way. When he entered the office to sign up for the Tokyo Race and saw Onoda sitting there, he should've left, should have avoided the boy but he merely stiffened instead and tried to be imposing and frightening beneath his mask.

He should have predicted that it wouldn't work.

And so now he was stuck, with Sakamichi, waiting for the man with the stupid thin mustache.

"Are you hungry? I could grab us some food, Midousuji-kun."

Midousuji ignored him, but could feel the blue eyes staring at him, and it was making his skin itch.

"No."

"Oh- Okay."

It was thankfully quiet again.

This was supposed to take so little time, so many minutes wasted here, time he could be using efficiently. Instead they were being flushed down the drain. Waiting,waiting, waiting. If it wasn't a three hour trip back home he would have left. And on top of that there was Sakamichi, the not ordinary, the strange boy, also sitting there waiting for the man in the stupid thin mustache, waiting to sign up for one race. Smiling widely.

Midousuji sighed, exasperated, air rushing through his mouth through his mask.

"Uh, Midousuji-kun?"

He peered at the boy from the corner of a slitted eye. "What."

Sakamichi fixed his glasses and he looked around nervously. Midousuji was both enjoyed and was wary of his distress. "Ca-Can we have another race someday? Like… uh, well, not that I think I'll win against you, 'cause you are an amazing cyclist! But, I wanna challenge myself. to beat you... "

Midousuji sneered behind the mask, turning his head grotesquely, eyes suddenly wide. "HAaaa? You want to race me?"

Midousuji's mind was racing, at all the ways that he could use this, that he could play this in his expertly manipulative hands. He could see a plan forming. He clenched his teeth together, relishing in the idea, grinning wide, although the boy couldn't see it.

"And what do you want if you win, . ."

He said the name sharply, haltingly, hoping to make the boy uncomfortable.

It wasn't a surprise that he didn't notice, "Well…" he began, eyes jumping nervously in his sockets, and his blinking was annoyingly incessant. Midousuji wanted to pry his eyelids open to stop the movement.

"I...wanna talk about anime. Like you said last time."

Midousuji blinked. He should have also predicted this. Was he slipping? Why couldn't he read him?

"Anime." Midousuji repeated, spitting out the word harshly.

Sakamichi nodded, looking hopeful. It was such a disgusting expression.

"Hah. Why not? . . We can race again. If you win, we can talk all you want. but…" He hissed the word, narrowing his eyes and leaning closer, craning his neck to twist like a contortionist, "... what do I get if I win?"

Here was the big reveal, the moment of beautiful truth, where he would see the boy's true nature, the filth inside of him, spewed out like the garbage it was. Midousuji was looking forward to it.

He blinked, and shrugged, "I don't know. Wha-what would you like, Midousuji-kun?"

Midousuji felt the victory course through him. The boy had played in his hands, foolish little idiot. Stupid little moron. He had just given his worst enemy the key to his destruction.

"Depends. What are you willing to give?"

It was like playing with a mouse, and Midousuji wanted to watch the boy scurry about desperately. What would he give?

"Um. Well…" Sakamichi looked nervous, as he should.

"Are you two waiting for me?"

Midousuji shifted his dark eyes at a man who was standing in the district office. It was the man with the stupid thin mustache.

Finally.

Although, he had interrupted their conversation, unfortunately. He turned to look at Sakamichi and noted that the boy was looking at him, eyes filled with something.

"What?" he asked, hostility in every syllable.

Sakamichi stood up, "No-Nothing!" He spoke to the man with the stupid thin mustache, "Y-yeah! we want to sign up for the Tokyo Race next month."

The man nodded and went to a desk, unorganized and cluttered. It was a sign of what the man was like.

"Gross."

Sakamichi looked up at him, and Midousuji hated the inquisitive look. He knew that look, that judgment.

"Are you two together?" the man asked, sitting down as if he had been standing all his life, heavily. "Its a single race."

"No." Midousuji spat out, clearly disgusted at the idea. Sakamichi also shook his head, "No… I'm from Chiba. Midousuji-kun is from Kyoto."

The man didn't care, Midousuji could see that. That didn't matter. He was annoyed that Sakamichi had spoken for him, like he needed someone to speak for him.

"Alright, here are the submission papers. You know the dates and everything?"

Of course, of course, he knew, why ask such a stupid question?

"Alright, fill them out. Ill sign you up. You have your entrance fee ready?"

Midousuji looked up suddenly. "Entrance fee? This race has no entrance fee"

The man raised an eyebrow, apparently not liking Midousuji's tone. "Yes. It does. For a cyclist not from the Greater Tokyo area. It is the Tokyo Circuit Race, after all."

Midousuji had not been aware of that. He had not looked it up. Last year, it had been Ishigaki that signed him up for the Tokyo District Race. Midousuji wanted to blame his dumb sempai, but he knew that this was his fault. He should have pulled up the information.

"How much is it?" he asked through clenched teeth.

"5000 Yen." the man replied. Curtly. Uncaring.

Midousuji clenched his fists, feeling his short nails bite into his palms. This was so gross, so disgusting. How could he have made this mistake. It was something he should have prepared for. Stupid, Stupid, Stupid. "Why do cyclist from other districts have to pay? Are the Tokyo cyclist afraid?" He spewed out, eyes wide and staring at the man, leaning over slightly. The man felt uncomfortable but his tone was offended, "Listen, kid, I don't make the rules here. You either have the money or you don't. If you don't, then leave."

Midousuji gritted his teeth, his tongue ready to throw out sharp cutting words.

"Its okay, Midousuji-kun! Uh, Mister, we have the money! So can you...uh sign us up?"

The confrontational air between the man and Midousuji shifted and they both turned to look at Sakamichi. He shrunk slightly under their gazes but then smiled, brightly, joyfully as if he had got everything he ever wanted in life. What a gross, utterly disgusting expression.

The man also was regarding the glasses wearing boy. "You have it?"

Sakamichi reached into a pink wallet and took out some money counting it, his fingers fumbling. "Uh… yeah! Two… two cyclists would 10,000 yen right? I have it...right here! So..uh… here."

He reached over to give the money to the man, but Midousuji stopped him, grabbing the small wrist in his hand.

His eyes were hard, and black. He felt like there was a blade in his throat. "No." he said, roughly, the force of the word rasping under his mask.

Sakamichi looked confused, "Wha…?"

"Gross. No. I won't let you pay. No. Gross, Gross."

There was no way he could be in debt to the little fool, to the not standard cyclist. Who knows what Sakamichi would want in return. That unknown factor made his blood run cold.

"It's...it's okay, Midosuji-kun! I don't mind paying for you! Really!"

His grip on the boy's wrist tightened. No, no, no, no, annoying, gross, gross, gross! He did not want to owe Sakamichi anything. He would rather miss the race.

The man was looking at their interaction boredly. "Well, what? Are you paying or not?'

Sakamichi gently pulled at his hand, touching Midousuji's hand hesitantly with his other one. Midousuji pulled back as if he had been scorched, "Gross!"

Sakamichi tensed for a second before shooting him a an apologetic glance, "Uh, sorry! Sorry, Midousuji-kun! And here." He turned to the man and handed him the money. Midousuji watched passively, confused why he wasn't taking action, why he wasn't stopping. It was like watching the executioner tying up the hanger's knot for his hanging.

"Okay. All set. Two cyclists. Your numbers will be given to you at the race. Names?"

"Uh… I'm not actually racing. Its… uh for a friend of mine." Sakamichi said, scratching at his face.

The man sighed, "It doesn't matter. What's their name."

"Imaizumi Shunsuke. Uh… From Chiba"

The man wrote the name on a paper, and then turned to Midousuji, "And you?"

Midousuji was focusing on the fact Sakamichi was not here for himself. That he was running an errand for the weak one, for the standard one, Weakzumi. Maybe the petty all rounder was just as annoyingly superior acting in his own club as he was on the course.

"Midousuji Akira. Kyoto."

The man wrote it down, "Got it. Okay. You're in. Be on time. The office of Sports and Recreational Activities in not responsible for-"

He began to drone on about legalities, and Midousuji tuned him out. Instead he began forming another plan, something to help him this situation he had fallen in with Sakamichi. He tried to predict what the boy would want. To talk about anime? Would he ask about his cycling? Could he get away with just paying him the money back? But that would mean they would have to meet again, something Midousuji did not like the idea of.

Could he twist this? Make it benefit him? How could he use Sakamichi. How? How?

"Midousuji-kun? Are you...uh are you going home after this?"

The man had stopped talking, apparently, and Sakamichi had turned back to him, that hopeful, kind look in his eyes again. It was so gross and familiar, that look. Midousuji wanted to ignore him, now that they were done, but now Sakamichi was holding him ransom, and if he left, Sakamichi could use this hanging rope against him at any point in the future. He needed to minimize the destruction.

"Yes, yes, I'm going home."

"Oh. Okay! Well, me too! I think, maybe I should get something to eat, first though. I'll probably miss dinner."

Midousuji felt the hint, and he clenched his teeth. "Is that what you want? You wanna talk about anime?"

Sakamichi's eyes widened, so wide, so excited that Midousuji wanted to poke them so they would close, and not look at him like that. "Really?! Can we!? I mean… Yeah! I really would like to! I have so much to-"

He stopped, suddenly, closing his mouth, his abrupt pause even surprising Midousuji.

"Uh. It would be nice… but… I haven't won the race against you." He said, eyes looking all around.

Midousuji felt his stomach clench, "What?"

"The race, Midousuji-kun! I haven't won against you, so we really can't talk about anime. I mean, I want to really win against you! Its...its like a challenge!"

He stared at the boy, not comprehending any of his reasoning. Sakamichi smiled, the curve of his lips making Midousuji's chest heavy for some reason. "I'll pay you back." He finally forced out.

Sakamichi was still smiling, shining light at him and Midousuji couldn't tear his eyes away. "You don't have too, Midousuji-kun! Its okay! Really! we're friends! So-"

"No. We are not friends. Is that what you want? You want to force me to be your friend?"

Sakamichi stopped smiling, and for some unknown, for some fearfully confusing reason, Midousuji didn't like that smile disappearing, his hands itched, his eyes widening as he felt panic make his heart pound in his ribcage.

"No! Not force! Its just that… well… I guess I sometimes assume things. I think we could be friends, though! I especially want to be friends with you! You're an amazing cyclist! And you know about anime!"

There it was, the reason that he could benefit Sakamichi. If he didn't know about anime, if he hadn't of said 'Zaku' in front of him at that first Interhigh, then Sakamichi wouldn't be talking to him now. Everyone had desires, everyone had reasons.

"Haa. Whatever." He said bitterly, disappointed despite of himself. Disappointed in what? That he was right? That he knew the ugly behind the masks people wore?

"I really think you're a cool person, Midousuji-kun! So, I kinda want to be your friend."

Midousuji was getting tired of the mockery, of the hypocrital words.

"Fine. What? What? What do you want, really?"

Sakamichi winced at the harsh words, "Uh. Nothing! Really!" He paused and fixed his glasses, a habit that Midousuji was noticing, he had when he was nervous, "Nothing at all!"

Midousuji grit his teeth. With his arms whirling, he turned and left the office, knowing that Sakamichi would trail behind like a lost puppy.

"Midousuji-kun! I'll walk with you! Are you going to the train station?"

Midousuji wanted to stop him, to tell him to go on his way, to leave him alone, because he was gross and Midousuji couldn't understand him. If Sakamichi was true, if he really was this honest, he wouldn't be clinging to him like this. He wanted to push the boy away, and leave him behind.

But...

He didn't.

He actually slowed his steps to let the boy reach him. His eyes were wide at his body's refusal to listen to him, at the fact that he knew this was stupid, that it was gross and so foolish, but he continued to wait there.

Sakamichi walked along side him, smiling happily, hands holding the straps of his backpack.

Midousuji wanted to just stare at him, wanted to find out what was wrong with him, why he wasn't standard. Why he made him feel… afraid.

They made their way through streets and Sakamichi was surprisingly quiet, and would only talk in spurts, excitedly about whatever he was mentioning.

Midousuji distantly remembered that Sakamichi had ridden to Akihabara everyday in his youth, much like he had done for his mother. Comparing the two of them was preposterous though, because there was no way that Sakamichi had ever felt the pain and loneliness of his childhood. Not that it mattered now. None of that mattered now.

He watched the boy from the corner of his eye, his smile wide on his face as if he had won something, as if he was the happiest creature in the world. It made Midousuji sick and warm at the same time. That smile was wasted...

He blinked at the thought. Wasted? Why wasted?

Midousuji gripped the strap of his bag, snapping teeth behind his mask.

They walked over an overpass, the cars underneath making a constant zooming noises. The sun was hanging limply in he sky, rusty orange and lighting up the world around the with a blinding annoying light.

"-but I didn't expect to run into you. I was actually on my way to by the new season of Love Hime! But Imaizumi-kun told me about the race, and since he's really busy these days, I kinda wanted to help him out..." Sakamichi turned to look up at him, "But I'm glad I ran into you, Midousuji-kun! I didn't think I would see you until the next Interhigh."

Midosuji narrowed his eyes at him, "You used the money. For your movies, didn't you? Used it for the entrance fee?"

Sakamichi looked stricken, and blushed, "Ah! Yeah.. but it's not a big deal, though! I can always come back for it! Really!"

Midousuji felt his stomach flip, painfully, as Sakamichi tried to reassure him with a smile. He knew how much the Non-Standard loved his anime, how much he invested into it. Why would he sacrifice for Midousuji's sake? Why? He would never do anything to jeopardize his victories, his want and his desires. He lived to win, to move forward. What was Sakamichi trying to achieve? Was he just nice? Why? Why? Why?

He stared at the smile, that bright, seemingly permanent smile on his face, something about it hypnotizing because Midousuji knew, understood that it was genuine and real.

What was he?

The moments passed, and Midousuji felt his muscles bunch uncomfortably, springs ready to snap. His head buzzed, and he wanted to reach out dig his nails in the sunlit streams highlighting Sakamichi's face, to see if he was real, and there staring at him with clear blue eyes, to see if he felt pain, to make sure he was alive.

Sakamichi's mouth changed from the shining smile, closing slightly to perhaps speak, but to Midousuji to was like shutting off glorious saving light, leaving him in the cold, bitter, stabbing darkness.

His hands snaked out to his face, grabbing roughly at his cheeks, pulling the skin back in attempt to bring it back.

Onoda's eyes widened, catching more of the afternoon light in them, and he squirmed in Midousuji's hold "Ah? Midou-"

Midousuji resisted digging his short nails into the boy's neck, his calloused hands feeling acutely the too soft skin his cheeks under his palms. Too warm and smooth and…

He pulled back his hands abruptly, and rubbed them furiously on his jersey, trying to get rid of the warmth crawling like a thousand ants under his skin, "Gross! Gross!" he said, the word shooting out of him in confusion for his own actions.

Sakamichi came forward a little, his eyes filled with concern, "Midousuji-kun? Are you… Is everything alright?"

Midousuji refused to look at him, staring hard into the cement at their feet. He could feel the tingling in his hands, like fizz from a soda pop, start at his fingers and travel up his arms until they engulfed his face, and the fuzzy feeling was choking him, turning into heat and making his face hot.

"Midousuji…?"

Sakamichi placed a tentative hand on his arm, and even through the fabric of his long sleeved shirt his could feel the warmth, the blood. He reacted instantly, "GROSS! Stop touching me, you moron!" He took a failing step back, wincing at the over reaction. He shouldn't be so bothered. He had to control himself.

Sakamichi looked shocked, and extremely apologetic. "I'm- I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to touc- You look a little red, so I was worried you might be catching a fever or something! I don't want you to get sick, Midousuji-kun! But, of course, I shouldn't touch you. I'm sorry! Really! I won't. I won't do it agai-"

"Shut up! You talk too much!"

Sakamichi shut his mouth. It was rather hypocritical that he was complaining about being touched when Midousuji was to one that had so uncharacteristically grabbed the boy's face.

Midousuji gritted his teeth hard, as if in pain. He hated this. His face was hot, like he was too close to an open oven, and he wished he could dive into the hot coals to burn his skin off the tingling across the skin, to escape this stupid, idiotic situation.

Sakamichi looked confused, but he waited patiently, his eyes blinking at Midousuji. His eyes were too expressive, and deep, and Midousuji felt like Sakamichi was staring straight into his soul, seeing the mass of writhing snakes and viscera that was inside him.

"Stop it! Close your gross eyes!"

Ondoa blinked at him, his brow furrowing momentarily before he closed his bright blue eyes, leaving him standing there, face still so full of emotion despite his smile gone, and his eyes shut.

Midousuji felt anger course through him, quick and savage. Fool! Fool! He could reach out and push Sakamichi over the bridge's side, making him topple over the the slick metal guards, into the black street below. Midousuji almost wanted too, to push him down, to teach him not to… not to trust like this. To hurt him so he could learn not to be so stupid, so foolish. Not to leave himself vulnerable like this. Teach him a lesson.

He sneered cruelly and reached a long arm, but it when his fingers were inches from the boy's shoulder, his whole frame seized up, chains snapping his arms back, rusted braided steel anchored somewhere deep within his chest, making his usually light frame so heavy.

"Why!" he seethed, through clenched teeth. His whole body felt sluggish, heavy and hot, like the days when he would cycle for too long in the muggy Kyoto mountains, "Why!? Gross. So gross. You moron! You idiot! I could hurt you, I could push you. Why did you listen to me?"

Onoda's face changed, from worry when he heard Midousuji's pained, angry voice to confusion. "Midousuji-kun, You would never hurt me."

A desperate forced laughed wracked his spine, "You don't know me! I hate, hate people like you! Gross people like you."

His head ached with the burst of feelings that Sakamichi seemed to cause him and Midousuji felt so threatened, so wary of the power that the boy held in his small fist. How was he making Midousuji feel so vulnerable, so afraid when he was the one in control, free to do anything he wanted, giving the commands, and manipulating the situation, and his victim had his eyes closed, and Midousuji could hurt him, but he just stood there, shoulder relaxed, hands loose not afraid. It didn't make sense, and Midousuji retreated in self preservation.

"Oh, I know I don't know you very well, but I at least I know you wouldn't hurt me. I trust you Midousuji-kun! I do feel a little weird closing my eyes though, but I want to make sure you are as comfortable as possible. We're friends now, so…"

"Stop! Stop talking! I- I'm leaving! Don't follow me!" Midousuji said, his voice almost screeching as Onoda's words were daggers into his bones, ice cold crystal blades that were digging deep into Midousuji nerves.

Sakamichi was smiling slightly but frowned again, when Midousuji declared his departure. He opened his eyes, blinking at the afternoon sun. The light bathed him in an orange glow, his glasses shining, blinding Midousuji briefly.

"Oh, Okay! I had fun, Midousuji-kun! I hope we get to do this again!"

And then he smiled, and it was like the long awaited sun bursting over a hill to chase away the demons of the night, like that first breath after being trapped underwater too long, it was an explosion color, of red, and yellow and purple all at once attacking him, fireworks in his chest, shaking the heavy chains attached there.

Midousuji stumbled back, and covered his face from the assault, and he dug his nails into his skull.

"Midousuji -kun! Are you okay!?" he sounded panicked and worried, and Midousuji wanted to yell at him, to assault him with sharp words and blame him for all of this because it was his fault.

He could feel the burning warmth from the small boy coming closer, like an overbearing presence of an oncoming cyclist. He stepped back further and peeked through his fingers.

Onoda was watching him with those disgusting emotional eyes of his, concern in them. Midousuji grit his teeth and growled at him, wary of how destructive this boy was.

He had to run.

Now.

He turned around, suddenly thankful for his long limbs and ran away.

Like a wounded, hunted animal from the monstrous, ravenous predator.

He ran and ran, until he got to the train station, not looking back, because even now he could feel the looming tendrils of sunshine reaching out grab him, to choke him, to drown him, the bright colors ready to blind him with… with feelings.

He covered his eyes, waiting for the bullet train to arrive, holding his ticket limply in his hand.

His hand was hot against the hollow of his eyes, and the darkness of his eyelids suddenly burst into light as his mind betrayed him, bringing forth the memory of the joy filled face of the boy.

Onoda was the sky, his eyes had the depth of the expanding horizon, endless and vast, and his smile was the sun, exploding over the skyline, and Midousuji was unable to hide from it, unable to tear his eyes from it.

Fear gripped him. He could not escape, he opened his eyes, and stared at the train tracks desperately, scrubbing his face as it he could erase the image, the feelings out of his mind.

But he couldn't. It was a hook in his soul, and something was gripping his heart, so tight it hurt.

Midousuji cowered, because it was in him, the tingling, the fluttering, like a parasite embedded into his body.

Midousuji was afraid.

He sat in a chair, wrapping his arms around himself, shielding himself from the horror, but he knew it was already inside of him, and he knew it would only grow.

"Gross…" He muttered, and heat suddenly filled his face as in his mind a smiling Onoda appeared, saying , 'I know, I know I'm gross, Midousuji-kun.'

And despite himself, with fear in his heart but warmth in his soul, he smiled.

* * *

Notations:

Hah. Rejected for a reason.

Whoa, there Midousuji, no need to get all OOC on us...

This is quite the odd style of writing, I know.

Sorry, Yo.

* * *

Chapter 02: Patience

Summary: In which Midousuji learns that winning could be losing and vice versa

Mood Music: Sweet Talk by The Killers


	2. Patience

Started: 10/03/2014

Finished 10/05/2014

Mood Music: Sweet Talk by The Killers

Notations:

MIDOSAKA MONDAY.

Enjoy?

* * *

**Repletum**

Chapter 02: Patience

In which Midousuji learns that winning could be losing and vice versa

* * *

"_Silence is one of the great arts of conversation" _\- Cicero

* * *

Midousuji wondered how one individual could talk so much. They had only met up about five minutes ago and Sakamichi had already told him the entirety of his week. It was strange that Sakamichi was so adamant about telling him everything, and anything that crossed his mind, having to speak loudly so the sound of his voice could reach the towering individual next to him, the words spilling from his mouth like a waterfall.

It was wasted effort because he rarely paid full attention to everything that Sakamichi said. He often spoke about anime and friends and the weather and animals, and everything. It was annoying and incessant, but Midousuji found that he didn't mind so much.

It was strange.

They were in an awkward place, Sakamichi and him.

Midousuji had come to realize that he did not dislike the boy, as annoying as he was, but he certainly did not remotely like him. There was were not friends, but Midousuji had caved to the seemingly unstoppable boulder that Sakamichi was pushing on him, that giant rock called friendship, and even if Midousuji wanted to, he could not stop the small destructive force that was the climber on a mission. Midousuji was finding out that when motivated, Sakamichi could be as stubborn as hell. It was a quality that he liked, that he sort of admired, but at the same, concerning gross things like friendship, he hated. In the end, he found it easier to accept certain lines to be crossed, only because those lines were still a safe distance away from the inner workings of heart, and soul. It was easier, anyway, to see the true Sakamichi at this distance, and if need be, twist the boy to his bidding.

Which is why he found himself in the Kyoto Park, in a little, picturesque cafe, sitting across from said boy.

And he was talking. Again.

Was there a way to shut him up?

More importantly, could he get Sakamichi to do it on his own volition?

Midousuji grinned suddenly, pushing his food to the side.

It was a challenge. Sakamichi was the enemy. Victory was certain. Midousuji gripped the edge of his chair, his nails digging into the the black metal of the stool he sat on. His let his face relax, mouth drop a little and tongue flopping out in his usual manner. Sakamichi instantly noticed the change in his face, but decidedly ignored it, opting to continue, just was enthusiastically his current vein of conversation.

He really had to dig, really had to annoy the boy in order to make him stop talking. Uninterest was very offensive and he wanted to channel that on his face.

Sakamichi didn't seem to care. It was obnoxious how things that would drive most people insane could roll of off the climber's shoulders with such ease. Sometimes, he wanted to test the limits of the boy's seemingly endless patience.

He clenched his teeth, staring the boy, wide eyed. Sakamichi merely fixed his glasses, hesitant for only half a second.

There was a glow in his eye, as if he was enjoying Midousuji's monstrous expressions.

This plan wasn't playing out the way he wanted, so he leaned back, and crossed his arms, pointedly looking away. It was an expression that he saw people do when they were annoyed. When he was annoyed, he cut people down to their actual size.

He stared out the window, only registering every other word.

It was like the static of the radio, like the whirl of the fan in his room, the constant click of his bicycling gears. almost… comforting.

"-then Imaizumi-kun said that maybe I should try to strategize myself from now on."

Midousuji snorted, "Don't listen to Weakazumi. He's a pathetic racer."

Sakamichi shook his head, "No! Imaizumi-kun is very good, at least, I think. I mean, he is a lot better then me. Its was my goal to be able to race with someone as cool as Imaizumi-kun."

Midousuji felt a nasty knot in the middle of his chest at the real admiration in his voice, a tone that he usually praised Midousuji's cycling in. He didn't like being on the same level as that weak one in anything.

He would always be above.

"No, He's weak," He said, through clenched teeth, "Didn't you tell me you almost beat him on your gross little bike. And you weren't even cycling yet. You knew nothing about anything and you still almost beat him. That's _weak_, Sakamichi."

He didn't look at the boy, continuing on to make sure that Sakamichi understood how stupid it would be listen to that standard average wannabe racer, "You not the kind of racer that uses their head in a race, anyways. To make you strategize like he says would just slow you down. Only an idiot would suggest that."

He expected for Sakamichi to try and defend the loser, but instead he was beaming, "Midousuji-kun! you listened… I mean You listened to that story." He looked guilty for a moment, "I mean! Of course you did! I don't mean to say you don't listen to me." He looked down at his hands, "I feel like I annoy you sometimes… but I like talking to you."

Midousuji sneered, but it was forced, "I don't listen. You do talk to much."

Sakamichi crinkled his eyes, "Midousuji-kun! I know, I know! Sorry! I know talk too much! But it's only because I only get to see you so rarely! I want to make most of our time." Sakamichi was always too honest and too vulnerable, and Midousuji often, very often wondered why he risked himself being around a person such as him, who thrived on twist indiviuals like this to their true hideous self. Sakamichi sighed and flicked his straw, "but I guess we don't have to talk, if you don't want to hear me talking. I'm happy just hanging out with you. So, I'll… I'll stop now."

Midousuji was smiling, wildly, widely, showing off his straight perfect teeth as victory flushed through him, filling him with evil glee until that last sentence. That ending words made his smile shirk just a tad, his fingers twitching under the table, not quite understanding the sudden flutter of his heart. He pushed it away, somewhere deep in his mind where he kept the rest of his useless thoughts and refocused on his triumphant win. Victory always tasted sweet on his long tongue.

Sakamichi watched his smile with a tilt of his head, and after a bit, smiled back, just as broadly, in that way that only he could manage.

He started eating, focusing on his food for once, finally in silence when the buzzing began.

It was slight, quiet, like approaching swarm of bees, distantly but most certainly there. It took a while for Midosuji to realize that the buzzing was not physical, that it was in his head. He was starting to get annoyed, very very annoyed. The buzzing was in his head, getting louder by the second.

He wanted to blame Sakamichi, who was now eating his neglected food with vigor, but the boy probably wasn't at fault.

His annoyance was growing, making him shift uncomfortably. There was something wrong with the world right now and it was making the wispsy hairs on his neck stand on end. What was it? What was making him so on edge?

He backtracked for a couple of moments, dark eyes scanning the cafe with a expert glance, making sure no one was staring at him.

The _off_ feeling was getting worse, and his hands were gripping his knees. The buzzing was on him now, loud in his ears, and he wanted to stab himself for feeling so weird. Why was he feeling this way? what was this?

"Midousuji-kun, do you want to try some of my dessert?"

The voice pierced through the sound, hushing everything, like that moment when the loud forest acknowledges the presence of a predator in their midst. Silence.

What.

He narrowed his eyes at Sakamichi who was pushing his plate closer to him, offering it to Midousuji, eager to share.

So it was his fault. Midousuji knew it.

"No." he replied roughly, "Sharing is gross."

Sakamichi laughed, the sound of it making Midousuji's chest tighten, his lungs feeling like they shrunk. "Haha, I actually thought you would say that, midousuji-kun. Actually-" he stopped as he caught Midousuji intense gaze, closing his mouth promptly, looking sorry.

He went back to his food, eating contently.

The buzzing returned with a vengeance, the static in his mind a raging sound.

He now knew what the problem was. He had won the battle with Sakamichi, but he was losing the war. Miserably. And the worst of it, as Midousuji powered play, categorized, and controlled this relationship, no this _acquaintanceship_, Sakamichi was winning without even trying. He probably had no idea of the significance of his victory.

It was gross, and stupid.

He grabbed Sakamichi's wrist, his fingers overlapping over each other, reminding him how small the climber was. He looked up at him expression surprised but not alarmed, "Yes? Midousuji-kun?"

"Talk."

The defeat was painful, but it was better than the suffocating silence. He had silence in every other part of his life, because he like the comfort of the quiet, enjoyed reading the pained faces of people when he shut them up.

But with Sakamichi, he wanted to hear, wanted to fully surround himself in the annoying sound of his voice. His words were never sharp, never hurtful. He always spoke with foolish naivety, always believe the best of everyone and in every situation. It was stupid and foolish and would probably hurt him in the long run, but right now, Midousuji craved it, wanted it. When Sakamichi talked it reminded him of someone else he knew, someone in his not too distant past, whose smile had also always been genuine and whose words were always soothing and filling.

Sakamichi could not replace that place in him, and Midousuji would never let him, but for right now, he didn't want to emptiness, he wanted to be filled.

Sakamichi looked sheepishly at him, his face splitting in a pleased smile, "Ah? Are you sure? I know, you don't like me talking so much. Haha, I know I can get pretty annoying sometimes, even if-"

Even this, even his gross never ending apologies were so full of something. Hidden and rich.

"Yes." he croaked out, because he was trying not to let the fluttering bat in his chest crawl its way out of his mouth, "Talk."

Sakamichi, always eager to please, started off, talking about how happy he was that Midosuji was his friend.

He watched him,with slitted eyes, trying to fit the puzzle that was Sakamichi together.

He still did not like Sakamichi, still was not his friend, and that was something he would fight for until his dying day. They would remain in this in between place. He was fine with that. It was fine, the way things were.

Sakamichi suddenly called his name, hesitantly, " Midousuji-kun, Um…"

Midousuji looked down at him, and the boy motioned to the hand still wrapped around his small delicate wrist. "I don't mind at all! Midousuji-kun, but you're squeezing me kind of tight."

Midousuji reacted violently, pulling his hand away from the hold wildly, almost flinging his arm back in the process. It would have shot across the shop if it wasn't attached to his shoulder. "Gross!"

Onoda gave him a weird look, and then giggled.

"Anyways, Midousuji-kun. I think that next time I come we should visit-"

His hand burned, and his face was felt hot, but the sound of Onoda's voice was lulling. The rolling intonations, how his voice pitched and dropped, like the water sloshing in the bathtub, pleasant warm tingles traveling up his spine, something… filling

And, without knowing it, Midousuji let Onoda Sakamichi cross another line, just a little closer to his heart.

* * *

Direct Expert from a MidoSaka Fic I'm working on, which is why it feels… eh random. It didn't fit in the flow of the chapter so I took it out.

* * *

**Chapter 03:** Sight

In which Midousuji worships the grossest things possible

Mood Music: Can't take my eyes off of you~ Cary Brothers


	3. Sight

Started: 08/12/2014

Finished: 08/25/2015

Revision: 10/09/2014

Mood Music: Can't take my eyes off of you~ Cary Brother

Notations: Adult AU, Established relationship

WARNING: Extremely Self indulgent. This one is an odd piece that I wanted to write but didn't have a story to fit it in. Mention of male nakedness, non sexual.

**Repletum**

* * *

Chapter 03: Sight

In which Midousuji worships the grossest things possible

* * *

_Beauty is whatever gives joy~ Edna St. Vincent Millay_

The moonlight streamed through the hazy windows, giving him an unearthly look, his skin was pale, and smooth, stretched over his figure, like an unpainted canvas.

Midousuji stared at him, eyes dark and intense in the quiet room.

His eyes followed the curve of his exposed torso, seeing the slight muscle beneath the soft skin.

He really was beautiful.

Midousuji growled at his thoughts, and he slit his eyes at the sight before him.

Sakamichi looked happy even in his sleep. It was annoying and gross how such stupid things made Midousuji hold his breath, make his heart do that painful leap and fill him with that certain lightness.

He liked looking at Sakamichi in the quiet of the night, when he was still, and breathing softly, the way his eyelashes brushed against his cheek, and lips slightly open; puffs of warm air escaping and filling the room with the essence of Sakamichi.

Midousuji reached out at pulled the sheets a little, until the man's narrow hip bones were revealed into the moonlight, and Midousuji pinpointed on it, eyes noticing a red mark on the slope, obviously the work of his over eager hungry mouth from their earlier actions.

Midousuji grinned madly at it.

Sakamichi shifted in his sleep, throwing out an arm and turning his head to the side.

Midousuji liked the new position, and he pulled the rest of the sheet, exposing the slim naked figure of Sakamichi to the eyes of the man sitting there.

He knew every mark of Sakamichi's body, every scar from his foolish clumsy falls; he knew where he was soft, and where he was hard with trained muscles. He knew where to touch to make Sakamichi cry out to the heavens, where he was ticklish, and where he was warm; he knew it all. He had memorized the lines of his body, the dips of his figure, and the curves that sloped down. And yet he always craved more, always knew that the more he dug, the more he found out, the more he unearthed about the man.

Midousuji moved suddenly, long limbs reaching over and hovering closer to the sleeping man.

He started leisurely, his quiet ritual, a secret tradition that he did in the dead of the night when the moon was high in the dark sky. The beams of holy light would stretch out over the endless deep space, as if attracted to the figure of his lover laying exposed, enveloping him like a clock.

Tonight, he slid his bare hand up a smooth calf, lightly lined with old scars, faded with time, strength hidden by the softness of his skin, and Midousuji rejoiced in having that strength serve him these days. The hand continued up, over a relaxed thigh, stopping on the spot of marred skin, where he had marked his presence earlier. His thumb roved over the mark, tempted to bite into the flesh, to dig his teeth into the man's hip bone again so that when he wasn't around, Onoda would still feel his presence.

He didn't cave to the desire, eyes flickering up as Onoda shifted just a little. Midousuji ran his hand further up, long fingers feeling the slope up to his waist, feeling the indent of his torso, trying to make his hands remember the feel of him.

He was hovering over him now, and his hand came up, brushing past a slow beating heart, to his neck. He could smell him, the sweet scent of his sweat, with lust bleeding the edges. Sometimes, Midousuji wanted to dig his nails into him; to claw his way into the man, to find the source of his heat and live there, crawl into it and curl into the core of his soul. It was a gross thought, a disgusting desire, and he would never hurt him, but even now, as he caressed the frame of his jaw, hands big enough, fingers long enough to cup his face, he felt the want grow in him. But perhaps, Sakamichi was a mystery better left unsolved. He sometimes wants to just keep digging and hope he never found the treasure. Or perhaps he had already found the richness, and he continued looking for the pleasure of searching.

Sakamichi let out a noise, and tensed slightly, signs that he would wake soon. Midousuji leaned away slightly, not wanting to startle the man.

Blue, always bright eyes opened, fogged with slight confusion until he spotted the pale face of his lover in the dark room.

"Akira-kun?"

Sakamichi eyes were blurry with sleep, as he looked at him, "What are you doing awake?" He squinted at the clock on the nightstand, "It's three thirty in the morning."

Midousuji said nothing, merely sitting there on his haunches, staring.

He liked watching Sakamichi sleep, but he loved watching him when he was awake, the way his eyes shone life, and love, the flush of his cheeks, and the quirk of his lips.

"Don't move." he commanded, and then pressed his ear against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart, a sound that he needed to hear to drift off to sleep.

Sakamichi shifted underneath him, and Midousuji glanced up and glared. "I said don't move."

He laughed, the sounds floating in the too quiet room, suddenly made the moonlight brighter. "Akira-kun…"

Midousuji just leaned his head against his chest again, and Sakamichi let him do as he pleased. By now, Midousuji assumed, he was used to his odd habits, the strange things he did.

It was quiet once again save the breaths of air, the heartbeat in his ear, and Midousuji wished that he could match it with his own. He had never tried that before.

"Akira-kun?"

Midousuji shifted his head, so he could catch the man's eyes. They looked dark blue in the faint light of the moon, "What?"

Sakamichi reached out a hand, and touched the end of Midousuji's bangs, just a slight touch.

"I'm going to miss you."

Midousuji closed his eyes and sat up. The reminder was a cruel jolt of reality, piercing into the lovely haze like a beam of a flashlight.

He said nothing, and moved to lay down on the pillows next to Sakamichi, looking up to the ceiling. Tomorrow seemed so close, the hours had gone by so fast, and soon dawn would come up on the day of his departure, the sun would rise like any other day.

"I know." he finally said, and knew that Sakamichi would understand what he meant, that he would miss him too, so much that the insignificant word like miss couldn't possibly properly interpret what it would feel like to leave him.

"I know it's only for a few weeks but…" Sakamichi said, quietly, whispering as if afraid that if he spoke too loud he would break something, "I can't imagine it… Not being with you."

It was a foolish sentiment, because they had lived most of their lives apart, lived lives devoid of each other for many, many years and had lived just the same; perhaps not happy, but at least alive.

But Midousuji understood him, "Yeah. It's going to be gross." Because gross was probably the closest word to define the separation.

Sakamichi laughed again, full of that fondness and joy he was loved for, and Midousuji could feel his warm gaze on him. His looks always ranged dramatically, from the soft glow of admiration, the searing glance of adoration, to the intense fire of lust, it made Midousuji burn because it didn't matter what look it was, all that mattered was that his eyes were on him, and only him.

"Yeah, it's going to be gross." he replied, and Midousuji could hear his smile. He moved closer, bringing his hand to intertwine with Midousuji's limp one pressed against the mattress.

He didn't move away, not like in the beginning when the fear of being touched made him flinch, that sinking terror made him so afraid of feeling again.

He could feel the warmth from his skin, from his body, and Midousuji closed his eyes, his tense shoulders relaxing.

'Come with me,' he wanted to say, but it caught in his throat, choking him. The desire welled up inside. Sakamichi was right. It was only a couple of weeks, and they would be together again. Two weeks to fully immerse himself into training, to win, and fulfill a lifelong dream; to keep a promise. But who he was now, and who he would be after the Tour De France was going to change, was going to break something, for the better or… for the worse.

The first time he had broken, no one was there, everything was empty and gross. There was only one path, one bridge that span through the endless darkness, one way, forward, forward, forward. It was the only way to go. Sometimes he would lose sight of that; the path would be obscured by the greed that lived in his heart, victory would blind him of the path, despair made him lose his way, loneliness bind his feet.

Sakamichi had been there, one time, long ago, when he needed to be reminded that he rode for something, that he had a goal, he had a path. Forward.

Even now, that path still illuminated his mind, his life, and Sakamichi had joined him, and pushed, had reminded him that he was not alone.

His mother was there, always bright at the finish line, always ahead, forward, but now, he had someone behind, someone who chased him, also always there, just as bright, pushing him, his presence sometimes gentle, sometimes suffocating, but always, always there.

He tightened his grip on their hands, whispering his wish into the night, "Come with me."

Sakamichi leaned in closer, until he could feel his breath on his shoulder.

"I can't, Akira-kun, you told me not to go. You need to train."

Midousuji grit his teeth, grinding on his words, "I changed my mind."

Sakamichi didn't laugh, because he knew how real, how truly afraid he really was.

"I'll be there the day the race begins, Akira-kun."

He stiffened, fear making his heart clench, pain shooting through his spine.

He remembered someone else that had promised to see him win, had held him close, and he closed his eyes to the fear, trying to focus on the feel of Sakamichi's hand in his, of his breath on his skin, of his smell in the air, the sound of his heartbeat. He tried to calm himself as fear ripped through him. It wasn't enough, it wasn't sufficient. He had to see.

He turned his head, his eyes dilating in the light.

He was there, like always, eyes bright in the moon, watching him, like always. And the fear edged away, faded a little at the sight of him.

If Midousuji could see him, as long as he was in his sight, it was okay. He was there, he was.

He pulled Sakamichi close, winding his arms around him, trying to swallow him in.

Sakamichi went, compliant and eager, whispering his name, full of understanding, full of love.

He wanted to keep Sakamichi in his sight, always, but he knew that Sakamichi lived in his shadow, behind him, hands outstretched to catch him when he faltered, to push him when the weight of his thoughts, his insecurities, his guilt, made him stop.

He had to trust, that he didn't have to look back, that Sakamichi was at his back, by his own will, so he could focus on going forward, on making it to the finish line.

That was love, the trust between them, but doubt still infected him like a deadly disease, like a blade through his heart.

"I'll be there."

It was said; a promise, a swear, a dream.

Midousuji buried his face in the neck of the smaller man, tightening his hold until he knew that Sakamichi was probably uncomfortable, but he couldn't care.

Sakamichi always kept his promises.

Always.

They stayed intertwined like that, until the white light of the moon turned into the golden rays of the sun. Sakamichi fell asleep, his even breaths ruffling the hairs along Midousuji's neck.

Sleep pulled at him, heavy and constant. He fought it, because it would be awhile before he could do this again, hold him close, and breathe him in. Sleep prevailed in the end, his eyelids dropping, his mind turning numb.

There was a thought that filled him, that calmed him, if only a little.

It was Sakamichi that chased him, and it was Sakamichi that followed. He didn't have to worry, because it was Sakamichi that made sure that he never lost sight of Midousuji. He didn't have to worry, all he had to do was look forward, move forward, because he knew that, Sakamichi would never lose sight of him.

He closed his eyes and peace filled him, because no matter what direction, forwards or backwards, he was safe.

He was loved.

And he should never lose sight of that.

* * *

Eh…? Yeah, it was a sentimental night.

Need to Complain? Leave a comment!


	4. Bewitched

Started: 08/01/2014

Finished: 08/17/2014

Mood Music: Cough Syrup by Young the Giant

Notations: Alternate Universe.

I ask myself if I will ever be good at writing Midousuji and the answer is:

No.

Please put up with me until then!

Yeah, Thanks.

This is only possible with the help of my wonderful Beta, Prince. All praise Prince-Sama!

WARNINGS: Midousuji is really weird in this one.

* * *

**Repletum**

Chapter 04: Bewitched

* * *

'_Captivated, forever am I. Lost in your soul is where I want to be. You've Bewitched this heart of mine, Please, never let me go free.' ~Author Unknown_

Onoda Sakamichi was the type of person that always tried to think the best of people. He tried to look at a person's intention rather than their actions. If they meant well, he always would understand, and even if they meant bad, he would also try to understand. He knew that no one, Onoda being at the top of that list, was perfect.

It was sometimes hard though, to want to think the best of everyone. Onoda felt bad for wanting to blame his co-workers for getting him lost, but the instructions in his hands were a jumble of words and lines and not helpful at all.

"Maybe…this way?" He said, eyes drifting to the the top of a steep hill.

The delivery in his basket was cold by now. He wanted to go back and perhaps get a new one, but he really had no idea which direction to go to get back to his work place. Besides, if he went back, he would have to face those co-workers; the ones that had sniggered and giggled as they handed him this map, and report his failure.

'Cheer up!' He thought, 'This is a challenge! I have to challenge myself!' He thought about the protagonist of his favorite show, Kotori, the princess of love, and how she would approach this. Of course, she had a friend with her almost all the time…

Onoda shook his head, and gripped the handlebars of his bike tightly. He would find this place! Or he would die…No, die was a little extreme. He would... fall from exhaustion trying!

With renewed vigor, Onoda began pedaling hard once more.

The city was oppressing, the wind always strong as it swept in between the skyscrapers and buildings, through the streets. Onoda could feel every slight gust in his very bones. It was very different from the roads in Chiba, his home city. There were no rolling hills, no wide open fields, and definitely no mountains to climb.

He sighed and then shrieked, as a car zoomed by, missing him by inches. He should know that this was dangerous, because he had ridden to Akihabara hundreds of times. He was just being nervous.

It took time, but finally, Onoda believed, oh how he wished with all his heart, that he was at the right place. It was on top of a hill; a small shop with giant glass windows.

The food was cold, and as he approached the store front, he became nervous because he was always afraid to talk to people. He really hated to bother people, and truth be told, he was already really late, and he was scared that the person who had ordered would be mad. He wanted to run away all of a sudden, flee, not back to work and not back to his little apartment, but back home, back to his mom and his friends, in Chiba, like a little homesick boy.

He was eighteen! He had to grow up, and he knew that, but anxiety still gripped his heart, and made him break out into a cold sweat.

"What are you doing?"

It was a low growl, with all the undertones of the city in his voice. Onoda quickly glanced up, and kept tilting his head because the man, for it was a man, was tall. He had wide shoulders that sloped down into a narrow waist and hips. Onoda barely reached his chest.

"Ah!" Onoda yelled out, stumbling back and off the front steps of the store, "I'm sorry! I- I- uh! Food!" He took advantage of the excuse to look down at the bag in his hand, "I'm supposed to deliver some food to-"

"You are fifteen minutes late." The man snapped at him.

Onoda felt his entire face heat up. His failure was unacceptable, and he was afraid and ashamed. "So-sorry! I-I got lost and my map was…" It was wrong to make excuses. He should have tried harder, pedaled faster, been bolder in confronting his co-workers' prank.. He felt like crying. He didn't want to live in the city. It had been a terrible idea to leave his nice, comfortable home and live here.

"Idiot." The man said, and he leaned over and shoved his face close to Onoda's, invading his personal space.

The man's face was long and pale, had almost a haunting quality to it. His eyes were wide and black, like the pupils were dilated, and his mouth was twisted into a disgusted sneer, Straight beautiful teeth clenched in his direction. Those dark eyes scanned him from head to toe, like the robots in the animes Onoda loved, looking for flaws.

Onoda was intimidated. The man was frightening, and overpowering, and from his proximity, his presence only seemed larger. Onoda flinched as the man's mouth opened, and a tongue, long and pink, poked out, "Are you going to give me my food or are you going to stand there like a moron all day?"

He was a little mean, Onoda thought, but he deserved the harsh words. He was late and this man was the customer after all. Onoda slowly lifted the cold food to the man.

The man snatched it from him and stood straight again. Or perhaps not straight, he sort of sagged, as if he was carrying heavy weights around his wrists. He dug a hand into his pocket and then extended it, money clenched in his palm. His fingers were long and thin, the fingernails short and clean, and Onoda stared at the hand outstretched to him, not understanding what it was for.

"Take it." The man hissed, pushing his hand near Onoda's face.

Onoda realized with a start that the man was paying. It felt so wrong though. Onoda had been so late, and he wasn't being very friendly now. Terrible customer service.

"Uh… No! You don't have to!" He glanced up and met the man's hard eyes, narrowed at him, "I mean, I was late. I'm sorry. I should have-"

There he went again, making excuses, "I mean, you shouldn't have to pay for… ah cold food." He had no idea what he was talking about, and he realized that his boss probably wouldn't be very happy in not getting money from the delivery. It would probably come out of his paycheck., but that didn't matter. It felt so wrong that he wasn't going to pay the consequences for failing here. The man had wanted hot food and instead he was getting this. "Ah, So… uh Sorry! I won't be late next time. I promise!" He said, but then blushed, "I mean, if you order food again, and if I deliver… I don't know if you want to, but I'll- " He was rambling endlessly again, something he tended to do when he was nervous and stressed.

The man just watched him, his jaw tight.

"Gross." He said in a growl, after Onoda had finished his long winded stupid ramblings. Onoda blinked at him, wondering if he had something on his face or something of that nature. The man didn't elaborate and turned around, leaving without another word.

Onoda was still, just standing there for a moment and then let out a sigh of relief, heading back to his bike. That hadn't been as bad as he had thought it would be. The man was a little angry, but Onoda couldn't blame him. He had called him gross though. Onoda couldn't remember ever being called gross before. Was it his face? Did he look gross? His thoughts raced as he mounted his BMC. He suddenly stilled when he felt the pinpricks of eyes on him and glanced around, trying to figure out where the stare was coming from. He looked back to the store, and caught black wide eyes staring at him from the window. Onoda's eyes widened as he made eye contact, and he lifted up a hand, waving uncertainly. The man did not return the gesture and left the window. Onoda frowned but tried to not let it bother him. He took off, already trying to think of what to tell his boss.

He did not expect to be delivering to the man's store again, so when a coworker called for him, he was surprised.

"Onoda, take this to the store across from Shinjuku Hotel. The one you were late to yesterday? Think you can find your way today?" He was frowning at him, like he was an annoying pestering child.

Onoda nodded and took the bag, wondering why he was being sent when their fastest deliverer was sitting in the back, moaning about not getting enough deliveries these days, but he wasn't going to argue. "O-okay."

This time he knew his way, mostly. He raced up the hill, and parked his bike against the store's front windows, and a little more confidently, but not entirely without fear, he walked inside the store.

Yesterday, he had been too worried for all sorts of reasons that he hadn't bothered to look at what the store sold. Now that he was a little more put together, he saw that the store sold books; all kinds of books. It was clean and organized and Onoda's heart skipped a beat when he saw a sign that hung over a bookcase, the word Manga shooting straight into his heart. He stopped himself from racing over there, just barely, and remembered he was working. He was early this time, and he wanted to feel proud, but yesterday's incident was still a looming cloud in his mind.

"Over here."

Onoda jumped, and he turned to look at the man sitting on the floor, looking comfortable against the bookshelves, his long legs crossed. Onoda cleared his throat, "Uh… I have the eel and.."

"I know what I ordered." The man interrupted. Onoda nodded, "Of-of course. Sorry!" He beamed suddenly, smiling down at the man, "Uh! I made it on time today! I want to thank you for buying from us again! I was hoping that my… tardiness didn't make you… uh not want our food anymore."

"What? Do you want a medal? That's your job." The man replied and stood up. Onoda had forgotten how tall the man was, and swallowed when he stood in front of him, digging into his pocket once again pulling out money. Onoda was ready this time, and accepted the money, feeling accomplished as he counted it out. It was exact, and Onoda carefully put into a money bag in his pockets.

He supposed that it was time to leave, but the desire to run over and devour the set of mangas on the shelf behind him was gluing his feet to the floor.

The man didn't like Onoda's lack of motion, "Well? What?"

Every word he had said to Onoda was coated in this mocking sneer, and Onoda frowned. He had definitely made a bad impression yesterday for the man to dislike him this much.

"Ah, nothing!" He desperately wanted to ask about the books, but his tongue was heavy in his mouth, "Ah...see you!"

He left the store, quickly running down the steps to his bike, and just like yesterday, he felt a hot gaze on the back of his neck. He turned again, ready to see the black eyes staring at him, so he waved, smiling at the man and mounted his bike and left.

Onoda assumed that he probably wouldn't see the man again for awhile and wanted to leave a good impression.

The next day, when his boss shoved a bag at him and told him to deliver to the Himawari Bookstore, Onoda was starting to catch on. It was becoming a routine. The man always ordered the same thing, always waited with the same blank expression, and always paid in exact change. It took Onoda five deliveries before he dared speak more than the polite thanks yous and goodbyes.

"My name is Onoda Sakamichi."

The man briefly glanced at him as he dropped the money in his waiting hand. Onoda hesitated a little, but he really wanted to make these…interactions less awkward. "Ah… You have a lot of books here…"

"It's a bookstore, idiot."

Onoda felt like an idiot. Of course, there was a lot of books. Why had he said that? He didn't always think when he was trying to talk. He blushed, his embarrassment reaching up all the way to his ears. "Yeah…Haha, I mean…" What did he mean? He retreated that day, but Onoda was nothing if he wasn't persistent. So the next day he tried to get something other than an insult from the man.

"Have…. Have you read all the books in here?"

The man gave him a bored look as he took the bag and didn't answer. Onoda shifted uncomfortably. "Do…Do you mind if I buy something?"

The man raised a thin eyebrow and sneered, "Do you ask permission for everything?"

Onoda dropped his eyes to the floor. He never seemed to say anything right around the man, always making himself sound stupid. "No… I just…." He sighed, his shoulder sagging.

Maybe the man was annoyed with him and didn't want more than the two of three words exchange between them. Onoda himself didn't know why he wanted more than the quick interactions. He didn't make friends with his other deliveries. Although, the reason he didn't was because they didn't order every weekday.

Something about the man made Onoda want to get closer, make some sort of bond, or connection. Maybe it was his loneliness speaking. His coworkers seemed to not like him, and he had only managed to get friendly with his landlady. It had been only a couple of weeks since he moved to the city and classes would start in a week or so, and Onoda was so alone. He thought that maybe if he made friends with the man, he could see someone that he knew everyday of the week.

"Sorry…" He muttered miserably, and retreated. He didn't quite make it to the door when the man called out to him. "Are you going to buy something or what?"

Onoda turned around, surprised and looked at the man. He briefly glanced at the bookshelf full of manga titles, before hesitantly answering, "Ah..what do you have…?"

The man smiled a grin that was full of evil mockery, "Don't pretend that you don't know. I've seen you looking at those," He jerked his head to the blessed bookshelf, "with your gross eyes."

Onoda felt guilty for some reason, and he fidgeted under the man's accusing gaze. "Ah, yes...well, I like… "

The man walked over and plucked a book from the shelf, and literally tossed it to Onoda, who missed the throw and was smacked in the face. The man was not apologetic at all, and for the first time, as he rubbed his face from the hit, he heard a gleeful mocking laugh. It was shrill and stabbing, but oddly enough, Onoda didn't feel insulted. He felt so accomplished. He had gotten laughter from the man. Onoda leaned over and picked up the book, and looked at the cover. There was a girl on the cover, bright shining blue eyes staring at him, and a dinosaur in the background. It was strange that the man suggested this one. He quickly read the premise on the back. His eyes widened at what it said. It was definitely his type of story. A time traveling magical gir, defeating enemies through time with the power of friendship and love. He glanced back at the man.

The man was watching him with a calculating expression. Onoda couldn't help the smile that grew on his face. "I'll take it! I actually really like these types of stories."

The man cocked his head in a way that shouldn't be humanly possible, "Gross."

Onoda just beamed and stuck his hand in his back pocket, " How.. How much?"

The man snorted, "Take it. I don't like to owe things."

Onoda blinked at him. Owe? The man went back to his counter, pointedly ignoring him. Onoda stood there, trying to understand. What did the man owe him? He wanted to ask, but had an inkling that the man would not answer.

"Oh-okay…" He said and started to the door. "Uh! Thanks! I will definitely read it!" He called out, clutching the book to his chest. He felt so much better than earlier and after turning to look at the man watching him through the window, and waving happily, he mounted his bike and left.

That day had changed everything.

In the next visits, Onoda was much more bold. He loved the series that the man had suggested, and went back the next day, food in hand, and bought another book. He made sure to buy it this time. He quite happily chatted about how he loved the protagonist and how it was inspirational until the man had quite rudely told him to shut up. Onoda tried, but his bottled up enthusiasm kept forcing him to speak. The man looked annoyed, but he continued handing him books. Onoda found himself using the man as a wall, talking to him about things other than the manga he had bought, about his school and his mom, and his mean coworkers. It took awhile before the man acknowledged him in conversation besides the occasional grunt, hiss or 'gross'. It happened when Onoda had mentioned signing up for the University cycling club.

"It seems really intimidating, though! I bet it's nothing like high school." Onoda had said.

The man stopped and turned to him, "You're gross, but you're not bad."

Onoda blinked at him. Was that…Was that a praise?

"You…You seen me?"

The man was backpedaling, "No! Gross! You climb the hill everyday. You have a BMC. You're a climber. It's obvious you're a cyclist. I'm not stupid." Onoda leaned over the counter, "Are you a cyclist too!? DId you do it high school?"

The man glared, "Go away."

Onoda bit his lips, but didn't press further, understanding the man's tone.

Their interactions were less awkward now and everyday Onoda looked forward to seeing the man. He felt bad that he didn't know his name yet. It was going to be a month since he started his daily delivery and he wanted to seal the deal in this acquaintanceship and turn it into a friendship.

"Uh… My name is Sakamichi… Uh Onoda Sakamichi." He said one day, as he was leaving. The man was in a bad mood today, and Onoda read the air effectively, coming and with practiced ease, giving him his food. The man clenched his teeth at him, not responding. Onoda left that day, but came back the next, instead of saying good bye, he merely repeated his name. The man didn't responded. Again.

It became habit after that. He didn't have any idea why, but he knew somehow, the man would not answer if Onoda asked him for his name directly. The whole thing became ritualistic. Onoda came, chatted during their exchange of food over for money, he would announce his name as his departure and leave, turning around to the man that watched him with black deep eyes, and take off.

At least that was the way it happened until the man finally had enough with his shenanigans, "Will you stop saying your name every fuckin' day?"

Onoda shouldn't have been surprised. It could be annoying, he guessed, after a while.

"So-sorry! I… I just… I don't know your name, so-" Now that he thought back on it, why did he ever think that saying his name everyday, was a good idea.? Was he insane?

"If I tell you my name, will you stop?"

Onoda nodded his head, his glasses jumping a little. The man leaned over, invading Onoda's personal space, inches from his face. He did that when he wanted to be intimidating, Onoda had noticed.

From the distance he could see the man's full blown irises, they weren't black as he had always thought. There was a lighter brown, a pretty soft color there, and his eyes were framed with slightly long eyelashes. Not as long as the ones on Onoda's eyes, of course, because he was cursed with those, but they were delicate. It was weird that the man's closeness was doing the opposite of intimidating him.

"Akira. Midousuji Akira."

The man, no, Midousuji said, his breath sweeping over Onoda's face. Onoda blushed at the feel of it, and then smiled so brightly.

The man flinched and leaned away, as if stung. "Midousuji-san " He exclaimed, feeling the name on his tongue, tasting it. It fit him, a powerful, mysterious name. "Midousuji-san.."

Midousuji looked at him disgusted, "Gross. Stop that."

Onoda looked up at him, an innocent smile on his face, " Stop what, Midousuji-san?"

Midousuji shoved a hand in Onoda's face, forcefully pushing him away, "That! Stop. You're gross!"

Onoda laughed, feeling giggly, and started for the door, this time saying, "Bye, Midousuji-san! See you tomorrow!"

The weeks went by. Onoda entered University, his mind weighed down with his classes, his schedule, and his work, but he was always happy to see Midousuji. He was like a staple in his infinitely changing world. Every weekday, exactly at one, he would visit Midousuji-san, who he hoped was his friend. In his heart he was, at least.

But on this particular day, nature seemed to be against their daily meet.

"You won't get far." His boss told him, giving him a side eyed glance. Onoda was fidgeting as the food was being made. "You'll get soaked."

Onoda's brow was furrowed with worry lines, "I… I think I should try."

His boss huffed, and looked back out the window.

It was pouring, not raining, but pouring. The spring rain was drenching everything. It had been clear about an hour ago, but as twelve o'clock rolled around, the storm clouds invaded with a vengeance, covering the City in a dark black shadow.

Onoda wished that it would magically stop. He wanted to see Midousuji. He didn't want to disappoint him. He would do anything to make his delivery today. It was his only connection to his friend.

"Foods up!" The cook called and Onoda snactched the bag from the counter. He smiled forcefully at his boss, "It looks lighter now." He said, trying his best to convince both his boss and himself. His boss shrugged and left. Onoda knew that his boss wasn't convinced but let him do as he wanted.

The downpour was unforgiving, and the road was slick. Onoda had to stop several times to wipe off his glasses, and one time to take off his raincoat to cover his basket at the front of his bike, carrying the food. He was soaked anyways and he didn't want to arrive with soggy food.

The cold wind was biting, and the wet roads didn't let him ride up the hill to the bookstore, so he ran up, feeling his lungs fill with ice cold air. He was sneezing when he got to the store. He didn't go in, because he was dripping, and knocked at the glass door. It looked warm in there, but Onoda wouldn't go in.

Midousuji came to the door, his eyes wider than Onoda had ever seen them. Then, they turned into slits. "You! You gross idiot! What are you...!? Why are you here! God! You're so stupid! Freakin' moron!"

Onoda could only laugh, and he handed the bag of food to Midousuji. "Sorry! It's a little wet."

Midousuji was fuming, but Onoda didn't really understand why. His voice was hard to hear over the torrential rain.

He realized with a start that he had been late by just a couple of minutes, but late nevertheless. His face heated up, but he wasn't all that sure that it was from embarrassment, because he shivered violently.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Midousuji-san!"

Midousuji hissed at him, "Idiot! You're soaking wet. Get in here!"

Onoda shook his head, and stepped away, dodging the hand that reached out to grab him. "No! I don't want to get your store wet!" He stumbled over to his bike and started riding away. His blurry sight making his pedals slip. It wasn't until he was halfway back to his workplace that he realized that he hadn't turned to wave goodbye.

* * *

The next day, he couldn't get out of bed. He tried, oh did he try mightily, but his body refused to do anything, but quiver and shake. He called his boss and told him he wouldn't be in today. His boss sounded smug, not needing to say the 'I told you so' he wanted to. Onoda didn't really care. He was cold and sweating and his head ached. He laid in his bed, feeling miserable, missing his mom, his friends, and Midousuji. The thought of the man made Onoda's heart clench. He wasn't going to see him today. It felt like he was breaking some sort of promise, ripping apart the thin bond they had. What if Midousuji didn't want Onoda to deliver to him anymore? Onoda felt tears gather in his eyes. He wanted to blame it on his sick state, but he knew that it was more than that.

He felt so utterly alone.

He drifted off to sleep, quietly crying into his pillow.

He woke to a knock on his door. Onoda started at the the sound and then groaned. He instantly felt bad for doing so.

"Ah…" He croaked, his unused voice shaking, "Yes? Who…" It was rude, he thought, to just yell at whoever was knocking, but he felt miserable. He was hot and cold and his head spun at raising his voice. He moved slowly, halfway crawling to the door. He wondered who it was. Mrs. Yamada, the landlady? She often checked up on him, because he reminded her of her grandson in middle school, whatever that meant.

He hauled himself up and clutched the doorknob, steadying himself. He wiped at his face, hoping he didn't look as miserable as he felt, and plastered on a smile as he opened the door.

The person there was a towering individual, dressed in all black. Onoda had to crane his head back, and he gasped when he saw who it was. Despite the white surgical mask, the dark narrowed eyes were easily recognizable.

"Mido-Midou-!"

He could not believe it! Midousuji from the bookstore! Was here! At his apartment! Right now! Onoda was very confused, and was almost sure he was hallucinating, so he reached out and pressed a clammy palm to the man's stomach.

It was hard and real, and Onoda gasped again.

So he was here? Onoda suddenly thought he was in trouble. Did he do something wrong?

Of course, he did something wrong, as usual! He skipped work today, and Midousuji needed his food. So, of course, Midousuji had every right to be mad. The other workers at their shop were too scared to deliver to Midousuji, and Onoda remembered the man saying that he didn't like them at all.

Still, that didn't explain why he was here, at his apartment,

Thinking so much made his head ache, and the shock of the unexpected guest was making his nerves worsen. He tried to focus on Midousuji, because he wanted to be a good host, but he felt so weak all of a sudden, his knees were buckling and the hand clutching the door knob was slick with sweat.

"Ah…" He started out hoarsely, his voice trembling, "Midousuji-san, I…"

He wasn't even sure where that sentence was going, but fortunately he didn't have to finish it because he was attacked by such a fierce shiver that his whole body shook, and his knees gave out and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

He didn't hit the floor though. In a very quick and brave gesture, Midousuji reached out and grabbed him by the collar, snaking out the other arm around his waist to steady Onoda against him. Onoda was suddenly aware of how incredibly warm the man was, and in his fatigued mind, he wanted to cuddle into the man's warmth. Inappropriate, yes, but it sounded like such an appealing idea.

"Gross…" Midousuji said, his first words to Onoda today. "You are such a gross idiot."

Onoda didn't feel offended by the insult, because he really was a 'gross idiot'.

"Sorry, Midou...Midousuji-san." He murmured against the black cloth of the man's shirt. He felt the man stiffen, but Onoda couldn't care. He just wanted to be warm, and sleep. He wanted to rest so badly.

He pulled away, making sure he could stand and dreaded what he was about to do, "Ah… Midousuji-san, I… I don't feel… I do- feel too well, so… c-can." His mind was fogging up and his words were probably incoherent, and Onoda felt so bad for being so rude., "come...come back anot…. her day? I want, I wanna, I want to slee-"

He glanced up at Midousuji, feeling terrible for dismissing him, but he was exhausted because of this little excursion, and he just wanted to curl up in his bed and sleep.

Midousuji had a look on his face, one that Onoda had never seen before. There was anger, worry and distress, and something… soft, an expression that ranged so dramatically, that Onoda thought that most likely he was also hullucuanting it.

Midousuji let out a noise, like a defeated animal, and reached out and picked up Onoda as if he was a small toy. "You are so stupid, it's incredible. Where is your room?"

Onoda's weak state worsened, and his confusion made his head want to explode. What was going on? Why was this happening? "Fris- door."

He was a limp vegetable as Midousuji leaned him over his shoulder. Onoda felt like a child; like he was five again, wanting to watch his favorite Anime on tv even when he couldn't' see straight, and his mother carrying him back to his bed in the late night.

"Midou…suji-san." His voice was as weak as he felt and probably looked, and he was fading fast, but he had to say something, "Sorr...sorry...for… not...deliv-de-delivering today." He felt the arm carrying him tense and then squeeze him tight adding pressure to his already sore body. He was loosened just as quickly, before he could even make a protest.

"Just shut up. You are gross and sick. Don't talk."

Onoda managed to smile at that, "Hah… I know. Thank...Thank...Thank you for coming."

He said it because he really was thankful. This was the first time that he was sick away from home, away from everybody he knew; his mom, and his friends. Imaizumi and Naruko would have come down to the house to make sure he was not dying, and his mom would have made him his favorite noodles if he was back home, but here, in Tokyo, he was alone.

So, Midousuji being there was so nice. It was so kind of him.

'I like Midousuji-kun' Onoda thought as he sank into exhaustion, the world turning black. 'I'm glad we are friends...'

* * *

He awoke with a start, eyes blinking open in a dark room.

Onoda stared at his familiar ceiling for a moment, collecting his wild sporatics thoughts.

He was warm, incredibly warm. He could feel a slightly heavy weight of several soft blankets tucked in under his chin. On his face there was a cool, moist rag, covering his forehead. He didn't remember putting that on.

Onoda blinked, shifting under the sheets, as he looked around the room.

He froze when he saw an odd shape at the side of his bed.

It looked like a mass of limbs wrapped around themselves, folded over the back of a chair. Onoda blinked again, trying to make the shape out.

He thought it was a person. A person uncomfortably, half laying over a folding chair.

The more he stared the more the mass of appendages started to look like Midousuji, the man from the bookstore, but that was… impossible. Right?

Onoda sat up, stretching out sore muscles in his back and the bed creaked. The sound must've wakened the creature because eyes, wide and dark, opened and narrowed on him. His assumption was right. The thing was a person.

Onoda blinked at the eyes, really wondering what was going on. A pale hand reached up and pulled down a white mask, exposing perfect straight teeth curved in a grimace. The entire thing was so strange that Onoda really believed he was dreaming.

"You look gross."

Onoda bit his lip at how real this dream Midousuji sounded. His dream world had perfectly replicated the growl and intonations of Midousuji's voice. The hand that had pulled down the white surgical mask suddenly reached out. Onoda felt the fingers, long and thin, softly touch his forehead, brushing back moist bangs.

"Your fever is gone." Dream Midousuji said.

Wait!

Not a dream!

He could feel a hand on his head, real and solid. In an instant, he remembered that Midousuji had came to his apartment earlier and had quite literally carried him off to bed.

"Mido-Mido-Midousuji-san!" He said, his cheeks reddening at… well everything at the moment.

Midousuji narrowed his eyes, and pulled away his hand. "It's -kun. Midousuji-kun. "

Onoda nodded and bit his lip again, his nervous habit revealing itself. "Oh! I didn't know. I'm sorry!"

He felt so embarrassed in his state of sloppiness, with his first friend from the city, that he wanted to hide himself under his sheets.

Midousuji was here! It was so unexpected, so strange. Onoda didn't know what to say. How to react. He wanted to ask what he was doing here, but didn't want him to go away either. He didn't want to be alone. His body was sore, and his throat dry, but he didn't want to annoy the man, lest he leave.

Midousuji read his mind and pressed a bottle to Onoda's cheek, almost roughly but with a gentle undertone. "Drink. You're dehydrated."

Onoda gulped down the water, quickly relieving his parched throat, before Midosuji snatched it away from him, hissing at him. "Not so much!"

He was being too stern, and Onoda gave him a grateful, fond look. "Thank you… Midousuji-kun...for…" He tried to stop the tears that were filling his eyes, and he covered them, "I was… I was…"

'I was afraid no one cared about me.' was what he wanted to say, but the words wouldn't leave his throat.

Midousuji snorted. "Shut up. I don't like to owe people things. Besides, I'm good at taking care of sick people." There was something almost gentle in his usually rough tone, but Onoda didn't ask about it.

"Go back to sleep, Sakamichi."

Onoda blinked at his name, his given name being said, making his heart leap joyfully in his chest, something, like a flower blossoming in his stomach, butterflies coming to fluttering. Was this still his sickness affecting him? His face was red, but he didn't know if he could blame the fever.

He thought about the command, and wanted to refuse. "Ah.. I don't want to sleep when you're here, Midousuji-kun."

Midousuji scoffed at him, not looking happy at his answer. He revealed his straight perfect teeth, and Onoda secretly thought they were beautiful. "Stop being so disobedient, Sakamichi. Sleep." He adverted his eyes, something almost like a blush staining his usually pale face, "I'll be here when you wake."

Onoda couldn't stop the smile that exploded on his face, and he settled back under the covers, believing his friend's words completely. His eyelids were heavy and he fought them, but he was losing quickly, sleeps' embrace was so luring.

He felt something touch his face, it felt like fingertips against his temple, sweeping back his too long bangs, but he could have been imagining it.

"Thank you, Midousuji-kun." He whispered into the night as he surrendered to sleep.

And in the comfortable black , he heard that low, now pleasing tone.

"Gross."

* * *

Notations:

And they lived happily ever after..

Sorry for the fluff and the OOC-ness. I was going to expand this story but Midousuji is so hard for me to write! And he started off being a little too weird in this one and so I gave up. But, its cute…. right?

* * *

Chapter 05: Heavy

Summary: In which Midousuji knows that his heart is heavy

Mood Music: Heavy in your Arms~ Florence and the Machine


	5. Heavy

Started 09/20/2014

Finished 10/11/2014

Revision 11/09/2014

Mood Music: Heavy in Your Arms by Florence + The Machine

Notations: SORT OF established relationship. The Ruler of my heart is my wonderful, patient BETA: Prince. All Praise Prince-sama!

WARNINGS: Angst. Tears, maybe? Midousuji is sort of an asshole in this one. Sorry. Light cussing

* * *

**Repletum**

Chapter 05: Heavy

In which Midousuji knows that his heart is heavy.

* * *

"'_I love you' never felt like any blessing, whispering like it's a secret _

_Only to condemn the one who hears it, with a heavy heart" ~ Florence + The Machine_

* * *

It was not his first loss, and it probably wouldn't be his last either, but this one hit harder because it was one uncalculated, unpredictable slip that had caused him the loss.

It was true that luck was a great part of racing and even though he knew that there was nothing he could have done to avoid that insignificant fuckin' rock on the road, he was fuming.

Sakamichi is wary of his mood and doesn't try to cheer him up. He says nothing, and usually just his quiet warm presence is enough to soothe his angry demeanor.

But today he was furious.

There were a lot of reasons he lost today, but it all came down to one jarring realization.

He had gone soft.

His razor sharp instincts had been dulled, and his strategies lacked that mental manipulation that he had been known for.

He had always been strong, and formidable.

Today's loss to the stupid gross arrogant bastard that had won today shows that Midousuji was turning into a shadow of his former self.

And he knows whose fault it was.

Sakamichi was soft, kind, and giving and it was rubbing off his weakness.

The said man hesitates at the apartment door, the keys jingling in his small fingers, before turning around to face him. "You did great today, Midousuji-kun. I know you lost, but…"

Midousuji feels a dark hate grow in him, "Shut up. I don't want to talk about it."

It was like he was digging the already sore spots on his mind. The encouragement makes him feel dirty.

Goddamnit, he should not have lost today. The more he thinks about it the less it makes sense. So many little stupid mistakes he made today. He should have been training more, devoted more time to the strategies for the race, and studying the competing riders for hidden weaknesses. He had been doing less and less of that lately. Sakamichi doesn't approve of his use of tricks and power plays to get ahead, and that was why he lost.

He goes into the apartment, straight to his room and Sakamichi follows behind him. He suddenly can't stand the sight of him. Sakamichi is weak and he is making him weak. He kicks down his rollers, not in his usual careful manner, and glances at the practice in pieces in the corner. He didn't train enough, his mind was distracted. Sakamichi was a distraction. He takes a step to the practice bike, when he is interrupted.

"Midousuji-kun… You need to rest."

"I fucking know that. I want you to stay the hell away from me."

His bitter resentment made his voice so cold that even he could hear the anger in the tones.

Sakamichi says nothing, quietly glancing up at Midousuji, his eyes understanding and Midousuji hates it. He stands there, waiting. Midousuji doesn't know what for. For him to apologize? For him to listen and go rest? For him to decide what he wants from this half assed relationship that they have?

It must be hard to be him, to have to constantly wait and wait for Midousuji for everything. Sometimes he wishes that Sakamichi would just stop waiting, stop hoping, stop being so damn understanding. "I don't need you pestering me like I'm some sort of idiot. I don't want to see that stupid face of yours."

He can see the slight hurt in his eyes, the words digging deeper than usual, and Midousuji wants to take it back, to stop hurting him, but he can't. He doesn't know how to stop. Maybe he doesn't want to. He is sick and twisted, but that is all he knows.

Sakamichi knew _knows_ that. Why should he have to change?

"Midousuji-kun…"

Sakamichi says his name like a prayer, always saying it as if it was special. Midousuji hates that he loves his name said like that. He wants Sakamichi to say his given name like that, '_Akira, Akira.'_ He wants to hear his name said in that same joyful tone, but he is never going to reveal that desire to the man.

"I think you should rest."

Midousuji feels blades leave his throat, "Leave me alone, you idiot!"

Sakamichi shakes his head, direct disobedience. Midousuji hates it when he gets in these moods. He's unstoppable, unmovable, "You have to rest. There will be other races. You are amazing, Midousuji-kun. You need to rest. You can train for the next one, and you'll win."

"Shut the fuck up already. Goddamnit, you have no idea what you are talking about."

He tone is so low, so bitter and so angry. He knows, he acknowledges that Sakamichi has done nothing wrong, has only been good,kind, and helpful even, but he can't stop the hatred growing in him. He lashes out at the man,

"_You did great today,"_ He imitates, bringing his voice to a shrill mocking tone, "You have no idea what the hell you are talking about. I screwed up so much today, but you are too stupid to see that. You come in here with your gross words, and your stupid cheery attitude pretending that everything is just dandy. Well, it's not, you fuckin' moron! You're stupid and useless. It's your fault I lost today. When have you ever done anything to help!" The words are just shooting out of him, like well aimed missiles, knowing exactly where to strike, "You really are nothing without your friends, aren't you? You are useless without them. You are useless to me! All you've done is bring me down! You're weak! Weak! And it's making _me_ weak! Goddamnit, this is YOUR fault! Why are you even here? I want you to stay the hell away from me! You're gross! Gross!"

It is disgusting the pleasure he feels from letting it all out, and the pain that quickly follows, he swallows it, because Sakamichi's face is blank and empty and so unlike him.

Midousuji stares at it, clenching his teeth, biting so hard that it feels like they are pressing deeper into his gums, clanking against his jawbones.

Sakamichi blinks once, and emotion fills his face once more. It's not hurt, or anger. It's something controlled and vague, and it's hard to read.

"Rest." He says, forcefully, sternly, "You have to. You have to be tired. I'm uh..I'm going to make something to eat, and you can eat it when you wake up."

Midousuji growls at his words, and wants to fight it, but he doesn't. Sakamichi's controlled level expression is making him panic. He walks over to the door, glancing back at him, "Sleep well, Midousuji-kun. I'll be here if you need me."

And he leaves, quietly closing the door behind him.

The memory of the blank expression reminds him of death, like the face of one he saw long ago. Blank. Void. Empty.

He stands there, and after a beat, he breathes out a whine, a desperate sound. How hard does he have to push? Why does he keep pushing, shoving Sakamichi away so violently, when all he wants is to have him close, wants him pressed against him, to believe his words, and take advantage of his smile? It makes no sense.

He is still thinking of training, ignoring his sore legs and the ache in his core. He starts to the practice bike, but he stills when he hears a sound, quiet and muffled, but the thin walls of his apartment do nothing to stop the noise.

It's crying.

No, it's sobbing.

Midousuji feels his chest under a heavy weight, like there was a compress, and it hurts.

It's Sakamichi that is crying.

No, it is Sakamichi that is _sobbing_. He can hear it. He can even see it in his sick perverted mind. He can see Sakamichi hunched over, curled into a ball, trying desperately to muffle the sounds, biting his hands to keep quiet. He is breaking.

Midousuji's breath hitches, and he is tries to catch it, but his lungs keep shrinking. He walks over like a zombie, and drops down to his knees, trying to work up the courage to open the door, knowing that Sakamichi is in pain on the other side,that he is suffering because of him.

He drops to all fours and leans his forehead against the door. He can feel the man's warmth from the other side, feel the pain that he is letting out. He can hear the shuddering breaths, muffled against perhaps his hand, or his knees, curled up from the pain that Midosuji had inflicted on him.

He is so cruel.

He doesn't know what to do, he wants to do something, but he doesn't know what. What can he possibly do? He is the one who caused this. He is the one who hurt him.

He knows that this might be it. That this might be the last straw. That he might see that Sakamichi's infinite patience and love and understanding is anything but.

He might leave this time.

No, not might, he will.

It's a hand that closes around his throat. This is why he never wanted to love, because he doesn't want to lose, never again, lose anything.

Today's loss suddenly is insignificant in light of what he is about to lose.

Sakamichi is quiet, and Midousuji hears him shuffle and stand, sniffling quietly.

Is he going now? Is he leaving?

Does his love do that? Make people leave?

Sakamichi would always tell him that everyone deserves to be happy, everyone should have love.

Not him. He was never part of that '_everybody.'_

He doesn't cry.

He hasn't cried in years. He didn't even cry when he was told that his mother was no longer around. So he was not going to cry now, just because someone else is crying.

But, his eyes sting, like he has been riding in the cold for too long, prickling like little needles being stabbed into his retinas.

He gasps, the hand on his throat tightening, teeth clench as despair grips his heart.

He wants to scream, and trash, hoping that maybe that'll be enough to bring Sakamichi bac, Maybe if he claws at the ground, and his blood spills, maybe Sakamichi will decided to stay.

He can't keep him, can he?

He knows he is such a heavy burden, his heart, his soul. He can't expect Sakamichi to carry all that.

No, he shouldn't have to carry him like this.

He crawls to his bed, and curls up on it, his eyes still stinging, and if he caves to the desire to cry, he might never stop.

What does it matter that he may never stop? No one cares after all. Sakamichi is not coming back.

It feels like an eternity, laying his bed, his long figure curved, trying to protect himself from the blades of his own mind. His thoughts are endless and dark and only digging into the wounds he had inflicted upon himself.

It is eternity.

He can't have happiness. Everytime he gets a taste of it, he takes the feeling and runs with it. Because in the end, he has only himself.

He stiffens when he hears the door creak. His large black eyes widen at the sight of Sakamichi coming in with a tray of food. His face is dry, not even his eyes are red ringed with the hard tears that Midousuji heard him cry.

Sakamichi carefully walks over, and they meet eyes again.

It's there, and it's a miracle that it's there, but it's there.

The love, the understanding, to forgive. It's plain and obvious, and Sakamichi smiles at him as if Midousuji hadn't said those words today.

_Why are you so strong?_ He wants to ask, _Why do you love me?_ It's those questions that he holds in his heart because if he says them out loud, they might make Sakamichi wise to his predicament.

_Why are you clinging to me?_

Sakamichi's smile is real as he sets the food down, and his face is full of that genuine concern.

"Do you feel better?" He asks.

_I hurt you, but you're still here…_

He doesn't say anything, but looks away, unable to look at him because he feels unworthy. He instead stares at the ceiling, avoiding his warm loving gaze.

"I made some food. Udon noodles, too. I used to eat it when I was a kid and didn't feel too good. It always helped me cheer up."

_I am going to keep hurting you, but I can't let you go…_

"I brought water and some tea. No milk or sugar. I wanted to make something sweet too, but I can't find any sugar."

_Please… don't leave me. I don't want you to go, even if I push you away._

"Maybe I should go get some from the store. It's just down the street. I'll go run and get some real quick."

He moves to get up from his kneeling position and leave, but Midousuji reaches out to grab his wrist hard and tight. His fingers dig into Sakamichi's flesh, shackling it in an unbreakable hold.

"Don't leave."

He doesn't realize that he says it out loud until Sakamichi's eyes shift, something soft and knowing filling them, "I'm just going to the store. I'll be right back."

He pulls the hand harder, reeling the man in. "No." He says. He tries to put force behind it, to command in his usual typical way, but it comes out as a plea.

He is begging.

_Don't leave, please._

Sakamichi's eyes water, and Midousuji curses at it. What did he do now? Yet there is a smile on his face.

"Okay.I won't."

They stay like that, Sakamichi leaning over the bed, his right wrist still imprisoned by the still man in the bed. He doesn't want to let go, and he won't let go. Instead, he pulls Sakamichi in, until the man has to kneel on the bed. He's still being pulled, and his eyes are wide when Midousuji does not stop bringing him closer.

He topples on the bed, his face flushing a lovely lively pink, and he looks like he is trespassing some sacred place.

This is different. This is strange.

He looks awkward, and it's Midousuji that pulls him into his arms.

Sakamichi is light on top of him, his soft weight a comfort. It doesn't make sense that Sakamichi is carrying his weight, his heart, all the burdens on his shoulder when he is this fragile, this breakable. He is so warm and small, and childish, and foolish, but he is still here, still holding on.

Midousuji hates that he loves that about him.

Stubborn little fool, beautiful stupid idiot. It's so gross that after all these years, Midosuji can't understand a single thing about him. It could take him a lifetime to unravel all his secrets kept in those bright blue eyes, hidden behind his illuminated smile.

Sakamichi is stiff on top of him, his body hot with embarrassment. Midousuji tightens his arms until he can feel their heartbeats against each other; Sakamichi's a fast breaking pace, and Midousuji's relaxing as he slipped into peace at having the man there and in his arms.

He can't say the words on his tongue, on his mind, on his heart; inked in blood, cut into his soul, "_I love you"_ and "_I'm sorry"_ and "_I need you"_

So, he just holds him tight. Maybe Sakamichi will understand.

He knows that it must be a curse to be loved by him, this eternal game of back and forth, of half truths and insults. This constant struggle between what he wants and what he knows he deserves. Because as long as he loves, Sakamichi will continue to suffer.

"I'm sorry."

It's not Midousuji that says it. It's Sakamichi whispering it into Midousuji's neck like it's a confession of sin. He has finally relaxed, his light frame feeling like a hot blanket on top of him "I… I just wanted to help you… But I guess I just bother you sometimes… I just…"

"Stop."

Sakamichi does not listen. "I just… I just love you. I want you to feel better. I want you to be happy."

"Stop. Stop talking. Shut up. Shut up." They are words that he longs to hear, but he doesn't want to hear them. They are like a brand burning into his skin, the rope around his throat, tightening. How can he love him so much? _Why? Why?_ If Midousuji finds the _why_, he can make sure that he never loses that aspect of himself, so that Sakamichi will never stop loving him.

"No. You need to hear it." Sakamichi shifts and looks up, his eyes full of that fiery determination mixed with another emotion that he was known for.

"I love you, Akira. You know that, right?" His face flames up, and he quickly adds, "Ah! I didn't mean to use your first name...ah.. I should have asked."

Midousuji is breaking, but not in the way he was earlier. It's as if his shell has a crack and Sakamichi is pouring something warm and filling into him. And he can't stop it. He is useless to stop it.

He doesn't want to stop it.

He leans forward and kisses him. He tastes salt, and it's proof that Sakamichi did cry today, cried because Midousuji is sometimes a monster.

But he _stayed_. He stayed! And Midousuji tries to focus on that.

Sakamichi is as warm on the inside as he is on the outside, and he tastes like tea and salt. They kiss and they kiss hard as he tries to breathe him in.

When they part, breathing hard, their chest expanding against each other, their heartbeat in almost the same rhythm, Sakamichi gives him a look like he is the most beautiful thing alive, like he is everything that he needs in this world.

"I do love you." He says again, his smile small and tired. He rolls off and snuggles into Midousuji's side.

Midousuji blinks at the water in his eyes.

He does not cry, but the tears are there, threatening to remind him that he is human, and that he is loved.

"Stay." He forces out carefully, his voice hoarse because his words are weapons that are not used to being soft.

He feels Sakamichi nod against him, "I will. I'll stay."

He is heavy. He knows that his heart is a burdening weight, and that he drapes himself over the small, delicate burning fire that is Sakamichi's soul. Sometimes, more often than not, he carries both of them, and it's preposterous because Sakamichi is so small and soft and so warm.

His strength is hidden behind his smile, behind those ever glowing eyes of his.

He is heavy, he determines as he buries his head in the crook of Sakamichi's neck. He is so heavy to carry,but, he also realizes that Sakamichi, weak, beautiful, small, delicate Sakamichi, is strong, and willing enough to carry him.

And that he'll never let him down.

* * *

Notations:

I have no explanation.

* * *

**Chapter 06:** Awake

Summary: In which Midousuji finds the comfort of warmth

Mood Music: Sunrise by Norah Jones


	6. Awake

Started 08/22/2014

Finished: 08/22/2014

Revision: Eternity….

Mood Music:Sunrise by Norah Jones

**My heart and my soul are in the eternal debt of my BETA: Prince, who puts up with me without fail.**

* * *

**Notations:**Established Relationship, College AU, Very innocent immature boys

**WARNINGS:** Fluff… much fluff. Slight mention of sexual content.

* * *

**Repletum**

Chapter 06: Awake

In which Midousuji finds the comfort of warmth

* * *

_Nothing warms my dark cold heart, nothing but the fire of your soul and the sun in your smile._

* * *

It was clear that Sakamichi wanted to say something. Probably something gross, too.

The problem was that he was taking an eternity to ask and it was annoying Midousuji to no end.

He finally snapped when Sakamichi, for what seemed like the 100th time that night, opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water when he caught Midousuji's eye.

"What! What is it!?"

Sakamichi jumped, his bright blue eyes widening, "Ah! Midousuji-kun… Ah." He started and Midousuji steeled himself because it would be at least another five minutes of time wasted by his boyfriend's stuttering.

"Well… I just wanted to.. ah.. maybe tonight...we could…"

Midousuji's eye twitched, and he thought it might be easier to use the process of elimination to determine what was on Sakamichi's mind rather than to sit here and suffer through this conversation.

"What? Another anime? Is that what you want?"

Sakamichi's shook his head, "Oh! Uh, No, that's not what I wan- Wait!" His eyes shone like stars at the mention of his hobby, "Do you want to watch one? There is this new one by-"

"No! Gross!" Midousuji spat out, "I was just asking if that was what you wanted to ask, idiot."

He shook his head again, pouting a bit as he came down from his high "N-No. That's not it."

Midousuji rolled his eyes, flopping back dramatically on the floor of Sakamichi's plain one room apartment. "Gross. What is it? A new food? New restaurant? A new course? What! What is it?"

He turned his head to look at Sakamichi and smirked when he saw the his bright blush, thinking that he should maybe run his tongue over the flushed red apples of his cheeks because Sakamichi's surprised face was always hilarious.

"I wanted to ask if...ah...if you wanted to…with me?" Sakamichi's face was so red, he looked like he was going to catch on fire. Midousuji frowned, and sat up, cocking his head at the boy. He didn't catch the entirety of that sentence, so he asked, "What? You wanna what?"

Sakamichi buried his face in his hands, mumbling pathetically.

"Hey!" Midousuji barked because Sakamichi was taking forever and it was not going to help if he mumbled into his hands. He tried to figure out what he wanted because it might be a while before Sakamichi got himself together, that weakling.

Sakamichi wanted to do something with him. Something that warranted all this blushing, and foolish blubbering. What could it be?

Midousuji blinked, when an idea, an inkling of what Sakamichi might be asking came to mind.

Oh.

_Oh….._

He narrowed his eyes at the still embarrassed boy, and he knew there was a faint hue of pink on his cheeks. While he was not against the idea, it was humiliating that Sakamichi, who can't even look at Midosuji naked without dying of embarrassment, was the one who asked, was the one even talking about sex, but at the same time, a tingling started in his stomach. A warm wave of heat filled him and he suddenly felt light headed. No, he wouldn't mind going there with Sakamichi. The boy's lust filled eyes along with the sounds he made when they got a little too heated in their kisses made Midousuji crave for more and he guessed today was the day to give in to those cravings. It was still gross that he mentioned it first, but the thing with Sakamichi was that you never know what he was going to do. He tried to be as brash and unaffected about it as usual. "Are you talking about sex, Sakamichi!? You trying to get in my pants?" He felt the blush on his face grow and sneered to cover it.

Sakamichi's face shot up so fast, eyes so wide and his previously red face drained of the blush, looking pale. At that reaction, Midousuji knew he had made a mistake. Damn it.

"NO! That is NOT what I asked!" Sakamichi shouted, waving his hands wildly, and his face was somehow redder than before, "NO! That's- NOT..what I...what I asked..." He froze, and he blinked at Midousuji, his eyes suddenly warm, "Is… um...is that something….you want to...uh well-"

Midousuji reacted in the same way. "NO! Gross! SO grooooooooooooss! NO! I just said it because I thought you were asking about it, you gross moron! Idiot! Talk clearly next time!"

Sakamichi stuttered like the awkward shy boy he was, "S-s-s-sorry! Didn't...uh.. I didn't mean to ask- But no...that's not what I meant. But ah… haha." He looked at the floor, avoiding Midousuji's gaze.

Midousuji in turn, rolled his eyes, and crawled over, his long limbs hauling him to the hunched over figure of his boyfriend and he bent his head, twisting his neck until he was in Sakamichi's line of sight. Sakamichi caught his eyes and more color flooded his cheeks.

Midousuji didn't say anything for a bit, but he was quickly getting annoyed, "WHAT IS IT THEN?" He finally barked out, scaring Sakamichi, and he jumped like a rabbit.

"Sorry! It's… I'm worried you might not want to try it. Maybe...uh.. maybe we should uh… wait."

Midousuji narrowed his eyes, "For the love of god, what is it you gross moron!? Just tell me! At least tell me before getting all…" He gestured to the shy figure in front of him, "gross like this. It's stupid. It's not like I'll hate you or whatever."

Sakamichi looked up at him, his eyes warm again and grateful, and it made Midousuji feel fussy worms under his skin. He was the one who looked away next, and Sakamichi sighed, "I know… I just don't want to make you uncomfortable. But...ah, what I wanted to ask you was.. if you wanted to...um… sleep with me and uh… cuddle." His face was still so red when Midousuji looked up at him, but his eyes were determined and reassured, "If-if-if you want to, though! And I'll understand if you don't! I know you still like your personal boundaries and of course I'll respect that, but I really want to… hold you and you know cudd-"

"Stop! Stop talking so much! I get it." Midousuji said quickly, his voice a slight pitch higher, and he tried to wipe the blush on his face. Why was he so flustered!? They weren't in high school anymore! They had even kissed already! And not just a touch of lips. It was the type of session that left them both needy and wanting more, but they didn't dare yet to cross that certain line. Why was this… this stupid cuddling.. such a big deal?

Sakamichi bit his lip and blinked up at him. Midousuji huffed impatiently, and glanced at his little red faced boyfriend. It was true that Midousuji had strict rules of personal space, that Sakamichi, ever so obedient, followed it to the letter. More often than not, it was Midousuji, with a sudden unintentional motion, that broke the rules and touched Sakamichi. The flame in his heart would suddenly spurr and this miscalculation in his behavior caused him to go along with it. It was him that initiated those first kisses.

But laying in bed, cuddling, that seemed so gross. And though he didn't say anything, his face probably displayed the disgust he was feeling about the subject.

Sakamichi caught his expression and his hopeful, warm eyes dimmed suddenly. Instead, disappointment filled them, but he kept his smile just the same, "We don't have to! It's not a big deal! Uh, but if you want to stay anyway, I can sleep on the couch like last time! Need me to change the sheets?"

Midousuji glared at him. It wasn't fair that Sakamichi had all these rules to follow in their relationship and Midousuji didn't even take requests. He hated this idea of gross cuddling, but the unfairness was even more disgusting.

He let out an exasperated, exaggerated sigh that really was more like a groan, "Fine! I'll do the gross stupid cuddling or whatever. I'll stay." He rolled his eyes to Sakamichi and stuck out his tongue, an insult in his face, but it was quickly sucked in at the sight of Sakamichi's joy filled face.

He was leaning forward, his smile bright in the dim light of the room, and the hues of the t.v. illuminated his face to look angelic, "REALLY? You really want to!?"

Midousuji had never been particularly strong around Sakamichi, often crumbling some of his resolve when concerning the small climber, and that was even before he liked him. Now, it was almost impossible to not just dumbly agree to whatever Sakamichi said if the reward was that smile aimed at him and only him.

"Yes! You idiot! Don't- Don't ask again or I'll say no next time!" He shouted back, trying to stop the flush of his cheeks and the rising panic in his voice. While in a race, he could act in a manner that would help him achieve victory, but in his own private life, with Sakamichi around, he couldn't seem to ever slip into his acting role. He desperately wanted to look unaffected and bored with the concept of cuddling.

Gross.

Sakamichi's eyes were so warm and he tilted his head, his mouth turning soft into a smile that was only reserved for him. Oh, he had noticed that it was only for him. It was smaller, yes, and not as bright or blinding, but it was fuller, deeper, heavy and light at the same time. In that smile there was meaning and love. It usually appeared after Midousuji would break his own rules; after a kiss, or suddenly when Midosuji would say something. Sakamichi would look up at him with that small, full smile, and glowing bright eyes.

It was gross, but Midousuji dreamed of that smile.

"You're so sweet, Midousuji-kun." He said quietly with that smile in place and warm eyes. "Thank you."

Midousuji reacted very forcefully to that, slapping his hands over his face with a groan and he flopped back, rolling away from Sakamichi very dramatically, "UGH! GROSS! You are so gross, so gross, so gross." He kept mumbling into his hands, but he peeked over to Sakamichi to see if the smile was still there, and when he saw that it was, he groaned again, and rolled even further away.

Sakamichi laughed, giggling like some happy little girl, before standing up. "Oh-okay, well, I guess I'll go change…?"

Midousuji stopped his rolling and looked up at him, "Hah, whatever."

A blush highlighted Sakamichi's features, and he stuttered through the next couple of words, I'll w-wait in the b-bedroom... ah… I guess?"

Midousuji sneered at him, but it was only to cover his own gross blush. "Well, obviously, stupid! Where else will we sleep!?"

"R-Right! Uh.. See you!" His enthusiasm was pouring out of him and he was becoming jittery. He tripped into the hallway because of his eagerness to get ready.

Midousuji laughed at his clumsiness and then sat up.

He was regretting saying yes. How gross! Sleeping with someone, even if it was Sakamichi, was so dirty. People always looked a wreck in the morning, and he wasn't looking forward to seeing Sakamichi in that state.

He leaned his head back, knocking it against the wall. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

After he got ready putting on some loose shorts, a clean shirt, and brushing his teeth, he tentatively made it to Sakamichi's bedroom. Of course, Sakamichi was laying there, hidden underneath the pale blue comforter, in a huddled bundle. It didn't make sense that Sakamichi had all these blankets when he was always so warm. He didn't need all those blankets. Midousuji was already annoyed at that, and this night was proving to be a sacrifice.

"Alright, how do we do this…cuddling thing?" He said with a business like tone, crawling into the bed and under the heavy blankets.

The Sakamichi bundle shifted and out of the mass, Sakamichi's eyes appeared. The blue of his eyes were brighter without his glasses. It was always so jarring to see how his face changed without his glasses. His eyes sharpened, and the sky blue turned deeper with bits of the universe in them. Secretly, very secretly, Midousuji loved his eyes like that. "Ah… It's like hugging… but.. laying together.. like a pretzel."

Midousuji gave him a half lidded look, "Like a pretzel? Really? _Really_? That's what you think cuddling is?" Sakamichi bit his lip and shifted closer, "Ah…Yeah? I think?"

Midousuji frowned at him, at his blinking eyes, and his small face that Midousuji could hold so well in his hands. "Pah. Well, get started or whatever! And hurry up! I want to sleep."

Sakamichi smiled again, his expression becoming determined, and he came in closer, wrapping his arms around his waist. Midousuji flinched and turned to stone as Sakamichi tried to make himself comfortable in his hold.

After a few failed attempts, they were starting to realize that some things weren't adding up. It was mostly Midousuji's fault since he wasn't helping in the least. Sakamichi tried to tuck his body into Midousuji, but his head bumped into Midousuji's chin.

"Ow! What the hell, Sakamichi!?"

"SORRY! Midousuji-kun! I'm sorry! Are you okay!?" Sakamichi asked, hastily trying to check, but his arm was trapped under Midousuji's solid weight. His warmth and wiggling was bothering Midousuji, causing a flutter of heat waves in his stomach, "STOP! Stop moving! Stay still!"

Sakamichi froze and Midousuji frowned before he sighed.

"This is stupid, Sakamichi." He said, twisting his arms. He was so uncomfortable and he felt trapped. He could feel Sakamichi's blush against his chest, and his eyes widened at the feel of it. "I did- I didn't know it was this complicated! Couples always cuddle! I thought it would be easy." His breath was washing over the front of his shirt, and itwas…nice. Pleasing, almost. Gross.

Midousuji rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the feeling, and let his tongue flop out, "You idiot! Real life isn't like your stupid romantic animes. Is that where you get advice from?"

Sakamichi sputtered something, and then laughed, "No! Not all the time, at least! It just looks so cute and I always wanted to try it! Um, sorry for making you uncomfortable!"

He shifted, pulling away, taking away that hazy comfortable warmth, and something in Midousuji clenched.

Midousuji, while not exactly loving this, didn't want to lose the feeling of Sakamichi's body pressed against his.

"Wait." He said, "It's uncomfortable because you're trying to copy all those gross shows."

Sakamichi looked up at him, blinking, and, in the scarce light of the room, his eyes looked beautiful. It made Midousuji cough awkwardly, trying to hide his slight sharp intake of breath at the sight. Damn gross eyes.

"So you want to keep trying? Really!?" He said, smiling at him as if Midousuji was granting him a wish. "Gross…" Midousuji said as a reflex, and then he sighed, dramatic and defeated, "Yeah. Whatever, but I'm going to… fix...it."

Sakamichi just smiled and smiled at him, and Midousuji adverted his eyes from the sight.

Sakamichi was a small human, and it was like a puzzle, trying to figure out how to 'fit' with another person. It was something that he never had an inclination of trying, but as with a lot of things lately, he tried because Sakamichi was hard to say no to.

He didn't like Sakamichi not facing him, even though that position made the most sense. Secretly, he liked the feel of his boyfriend's breath washing over his neck and collarbone. He pulled Sakamichi back into his chest, feeling his fingers grab the material of his black t-shirt. The touch is so soft, not close enough to be called a caress, but it made Midousuji grit his teeth because it was a little too intimate. What the hell was cuddling anyways? It wasn't a prelude to sex, right?

Dammit, even if it was not supposed to lead to any sort of sexual activities, now it was on his mind. He moved his arm, tucking it under the slight indent of Sakamichi's waist, feeling the weight settle over him. He was so light that it was miraculous that he rode a racer with such speed and strength. He brought him up, until Sakamichi's face was suddenly pressed into his neck, and he felt lips against his throat and he shivered at the touch. Then, suddenly, as he wrapped the other arm around Sakamichi, it clicked.

It worked. It felt nice even. It was warm, and soft, and cuddly.

Oh. Now he understood what cuddling was.

This.

Gross.

His eye twitched because the fingers drifting aimlessly on his chest felt a little too good. And damn it all to hell, when Sakamichi moved his face closer into the crook of his neck and breathed out a soft sigh, Midousuji stiffened, because it felt really, really good.

"Mmmmm, Midousuji, are you comfortable?" Sakamichi asked, but he said it against his throat, and it felt so weird to have those lips pressed against him like that. Another feeling that was also too good.

"Sh-Shut up! Don't talk. Gross." He was aware of how flushed his face was. He was trying to keep his blood in check.

Sakamichi laughed. It felt so different against his skin. It was too pleasing, and Midousuji hissed at him. Sakamichi quieted, and then sighed again, before speaking, "Ah, thank you Midousuji-kun! I really like this. I really like you!"

Midousuji clanked his teeth together on top of Sakamichi's head, hissing once again, "Stop it! So gross! Go to sleep, you moron!"

Sakamichi chuckled lightly, and then nodded, "Okay! Good night!" He squirmed in closer, and nosed up against his neck. Midousuji could feel his fluttering eyelashes, like feathers against his throat. Gross! Gross! The twisting in his stomach was the most gross thing of all.

Things quieted, and time passed.

Sakamichi fell asleep first, of course, because he's weak. Midousuji was anything, but weak. And besides, it wasn't like he could fall asleep so easily when doing this… this… cuddling. It was torture! Absolute gross torture!

Sakamichi was acting like a small rodent, sniffling and burrowing into his arms, every once in while shifting against Midousuji's legs and hips, pressing his warm figure closer to the lanky man. He could feel every slight movement and twitch, the moist warm breath sweeping over his neck and collarbone. What was the worst part was the soft little sighs he was making, quiet and lulling, mummering every once in awhile. It was probably about anime.

No more cuddling, never again, he decided.

He was aware of the very disobedient tightness in his shorts and he wondered, only for a moment, if Sakamichi had a similar problem down there, but he quickly snapped his teeth and mumbled a disgusted 'gross'.

Despite how gross this cuddling was, it wasn't as terrible as he had thought. The soft, warm weight of Sakamichi's figure in his arms, and his warm breath against his skin was enjoyable, pleasurable.

And, as he was drifting off to sleep, he broke another rule when he softly pressed his lips against Sakamichi's forehead.

* * *

He woke up first, of course. His body was finely tuned, set to a certain schedule, and so when his eyes opened and the light was coming through the windows, he was fully awake. He wasn't groggy or sleepy. He goes through his morning checklist. Today was Saturday. He had race training all morning, and then a trip to that Chiba bike store to pick up a couple of parts. He shifted and then stopped when he felt the tingle in his arms, the weight against him. He looked down, a surprised look crossing his face.

Sakamichi was there, his black hair pressing under his chin. When did this hap-

Oh. Right, cuddling. He leaned back until he can see Sakamichi's gross morning face.

Except it was not gross. It was anything, but gross.

He knew it supposed to be gross, because six hours of sleep made the body gross. He knew that, but the sight of Sakamichi's wet lips, his long eyelashes fluttering, and how peaceful he looked made Midousuji want to pinch him. Gods, he was so damn cute. It was so gross.

But he doesn't look away. He stares, eyes narrowed on the boy's face, memorizing the line on his nose, and wondered how a nose, a part of the body that was really disgusting and not attractive at all, could even be cute and round like that.

There is, though, a slight sheen of shine to his face, and Midousuji leaned further away because Sakamichi's breath probably stinked. He doesn't move far, but his rustling nudged the boy awake. His eyes slowly opened, filled with sleep and haze, his eyes dimmed with grogginess, and when he saw Midousuji there with a pained look on his face, he smiled. "Midousuji-kun… Good morning."

And in his confused state, he leaned forward and kissed him, just a touch of lips but it was warm, and so soft…and so nice.

"Gross! SO gross! You haven't brushed your teeth!" He shouts, but that's not the reason he's so flustered. He's agitated because he liked that Sakamichi kissed him. He liked the initiative he took.

"Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't think about it! I was just so happy to see you! I think you look lovely this morning! Sorry!"

He blushed, and Midousuji watched the color stain his face, over the bridge of his nose, and going up to his ears. Sakamichi blushed in different ways, he had noticed. Because he studied people close in their day to day lives, constantly looking for and edge, this information didn't come as a surprise. The blush he was sporting at the moment was embarrassment, and Midousuji rolled his eyes. He doesn't comment further, because Sakamichi looked so cute in the morning and there he was throwing around words like "lovely" to describe Midousuji.

His eyes looked wonderful, beautiful in the morning light, and his smile, small pleased smile, was shining sunlight, matching the streaks of golden light from the window. How can someone look like that in the morning? Blue like the crisp dawning sky, his sunny smile tinged red with a light shy blush, like the sunrise.

Midousuji couldn't stand it, and so he pulled Sakamichi into his chest again, so he couldn't see that expression on his face.

"Gross."

Sakamichi giggled against his frame and stretched, reaching out his arms and legs looking like some sort of rodent. A cute one though, not like the ones he used to chase out of his yard as a kid. Sakamichi bended backwards and his hips pressed up against Midousuji's for a moment. Midousuji's eyes widened because there was something going on with him down there, and he did not want Sakamichi to find out, but at the same time, he was comfortable like this. It was warm and so inviting. 'Cuddling is nice,' He admits to himself, 'so gross, but nice.'

"What do you want for breakfast?" Sakamichi started, pulling back, "And what are you going to do today? Do you need to train? Want some company? Maybe we could go eat at Akihabara! There's this new Love Hime themed cafe that I heard was going to op-"

"Shut up! It's too early to get up." Midousuji lied, and pulled Sakamichi closer, before he squeezed him experimentally, "Go back to sleep."

"But! Midousuji-kun! You usually get up to train, right?" He wiggled in his grasp pulling back so he could look up into his face.

Midousuji wrinkled his nose at his puppy breath. It was so gross, but he doesn't move away, "You're so gross in the mornings, Sakamichi." Because it was true. He was so gross today.

Sakamichi looked apologetic, "Oh? S-Sorry, Midou-mrph!"

He didn't get to finish his name since Midousuji swept down and kissed him, his tongue pressing against the small moist lips, and after a moment, they slowly opened up to him, and he wasted no time in tasting him. It was gross, but Midousuji didn't care at the moment. Sakamichi was so warm in his arms, soft and full against him, and kissing him like this felt even better. He pulled away after a moment, and saw that Sakamichi was blushing again. This time the red was going down to his neck, and he smirked evilly because he was sure that now Sakamichi was also having an issue in his pants. Midousuji wasn't the only one suffering.

"Wh-What was that?" Sakamichi asked, panting slightly. Midousuji grinned, so pleased all of a sudden and in control. "Every time you complain, I'm going to do that. I've decided that we're going to stay in bed all day." He declared and smirked once again at his boyfriend's surprised face.

He wasn't just saying it. He meant it. He liked this feeling of fullness and warmth, the way Sakamichi fit against him, and the feel of his skin and heart beat. It was nice, and pleasing, and comforting. Gross or not, he liked it. Which made him gross.

"But! Midousu-maph!" Midousuji kissed him again, cutting off the exclamation, and when he leaned back, Sakamichi was looking so flustered in his arms. Midousuji suddenly really, really liked this game.

Sakamichi opened his mouth and then thought better of it, and Midousuji's face split into a wide mocking grin.

"What? Giving up, Sa-ka-mi-chi?" He taunted, and Sakamichi looked indignant at that, "Giving up at wha-"

The assault was calculated and Sakamichi was giggling into the kisses, "Okay! Okay! I give up! But for how long? We need breakfast! And traini- and wait, Midousuji-kun!"

Midousuji squeezed the little climber in his arms again and ran his tongue over the blush on his cheeks, much like he wanted to do the night before, tasting the salt of his skin.

"This. We're going to do this all day." Midousuji replied and he was not exaggerating. They were going to do this all day. Maybe tomorrow, too.

"We can't!" Sakamichi cried out and Midousuji raised an eyebrow at him.

"Oh?" He said, dangerously, his tongue poking out. "We can't?"

Sakaichim shifted in his arms, and he looked so alarmed at the tongue edging closer to him, and the determined, if not mischievous, look on Midousuji's face. They were breaking all the rules today.

And Midousuji couldn't find it in him to care, because at the moment all he cared about was the warmth and comfort in his arms, and how he was going to enjoy proving just how wrong Sakamichi can be.

* * *

**Notations:**

Too sweet? "_Grossed"_ you out? I agree. Dang it guys, this one got away from me. Sorry, yo..

This is an apology for last week's agnst piece. I guess next's week will be an apology for this is no in between for me, I either makes things super sad and sentimental, or this gross icky fluff stuff. Please be kind.

Jaja.

**On a personal note:**

I cry daily on how little Onoda baby is. He is only 56kg (uh...115 Lbs?). Tiny cutie baby. I want to hug him.

Also, cuddling is hard. I know from experiences.

Or maybe that's because I was such an awkward teen.

* * *

**Chapter 07:** Deity

Summary: In Which Onoda meets a prince out of this world


	7. Deity

Started 07/12/2014

Finished: 09/15/2014

Revision: 11/24/2014

Mood Music: Celestial by Phidel

**Apology:** My bad! A day late! oh well! Better late than never!

**Notations:** Spirits and gods AU, Manami Honey appears, REMEMBER THIS IS FICTION! A lot of imagery, and annoying poetic language in this one.

**WARNINGS:** ANGST! MAYBE? Also: Twice as long as the others.. And very very weird…Please keep an open mind, yo!

Give Thanks to Prince: My wonderful BETA! Prince is my saviour!

* * *

**Repletum**

Chapter 06: Deity

In which Onoda meets a being out of this world

* * *

_How the world may be changed, in just one burst of light!_

_And what was right, seems wrong_

_And what was wrong, seems right…_

_~ Les Misérables_

* * *

He was not human. He was not a god.

He was something in between.

Which was the same as being nothing.

He had no place in the universe.

Akira watched the people below with utter boredom. Humans were low stupid creatures, whose stench was worse than the filth that they poured down into the rivers.

He found himself there once more, in the Land of the Rising Sun, watching them. 500 years had passed on the earth since his birth, the rich soil of the planet covered in the colorless slabs of what the humans lathered over for the sake of convenience, stretching endlessly.

Akira swept his large black eyes across the forest where the humans were loitering about, cattle mindlessly grazing.

He kept returning to this hallowed spot year after human year. His mother was there, bonded with the unworthy dirt of the ground and her grave shrouded by the old oaks that protected the spot of land that Akira visited with unintentional tradition and dedication. He floated down further, closer to the ground, his body shimmering into view of the foolish humans below.

The late afternoon sun was giving way to the darkness. She was fighting the oncoming night fiercely, shooting out her rays across the sky, as if reaching to cling to the Land of the Rising Sun.

Akira regarded the horizon, laughing at her efforts. His father would rise as he always did, and shine in the dark night until the sun would return to chase him away once more. Their petty battle was endless and foolish.

Akira was waiting for the moon to reign in the sky before he descended to his mother's grave. Time ticked away so slowly. When one had eternity to claim, time was always too long, too pretentious, of no importance. So he continued to watch the humans on the earth, his toes barely touching the tops of the utmost trees, his large round eyes peering into the city and watching. Watching like a child ready to destroy the carefully built intricacies of an anthill.

Humans were nothing but insects, after all. They lived and died. What happened in between was pointless to dwell on.

The looming city was so threatening lately. In the last hundred years, the people had built and built, attempting to make something for themselves, and what they created kept inching closer to the sacred ground of his mother's resting place.

If they dared to get closer, Akira decided that he would burn them all to the ground again.

The night finally stretched over the sky, swallowing up the last of the dwindling arms of the sun, and the twinkling lights of celestial bodies lit up the sky. Such a distraction, the city and all its false empty lights poisoning the darkness. Human feared the darkness...

Akira was glad.

He drifted down and landed on the ground beneath the old oaks. He remembered planting them, using the ashes and charred remains of his fellow villagers to create a suitable fertilizer. It was nice to come and see how well they had grown..

The moon was graceful enough to bathe the ground with a beam of holy light. Perhaps his father did feel something after all these years.

"Mother." He breathed out to the ground. She wasn't there and the dirt, the soil no longer held any trace of her, but still he returned to this spot, to this moment, every earth year.

_"Akira…"_

_A long lanky boy moves forward, hurriedly at the sound of his name said so weakly. Her bright eyes are so dim now, so tired, barely open, "Akira…"_

_"Mother…" The boy says, his large eyes blinking at the sight of his kind mother so empty. "Y-Yes… Mother?"_

_She starts to pant, her eyes grow so unfocused, in and out, and suddenly a black shadow appears in the room. A terrifying figure, so large, and ominous with black pointed teeth in his mouth and he watches them, patient and evil._

_A reaper to collect a soul._

_"Akira…"_

_He rips his sight from the great, horrid creature in the room and turns to her._

_"Akira… I love-" She coughs, blood splattering on her hand, on her white robes, the red marking the pristine white and staining. When she stops, she reaches out with such strange strength, gripping Akira's kimono tightly until her fists are white. She pulls him to her chest, and he closes his eyes, feeling so warm in her arms. The light from within her is so wonderful, so bright, but even through the joyful warmth, he can hear her slow ragged breath, can feel her heart stuttering. "I love you, Akira..." whispering it in that low calm voice, "I love you…"_

_Akira nods against her, smiling._

_Love is beautiful. It's warm and kind. He loves it and he never wants to lose it. His eyes are closed so he doesn't see when the beast in the room reaches out with a clawed hand and takes a soul for his own._

Akira crouched down and placed a thin bony hand to the ground, digging his nails in the soil. He hated humans because of her. He hated them because they die, because they were disgusting and useless. She was the only one in all of time that was of any worth. They should all be annihilated, he secretly thought.

It was a quiet moment that was over too quickly because there was a rustling in the underbrush and Akira shifted back into the shadows.

It was late. What sort of stupid human would go out this far in the forest at this time of night? Akira tasted the air and smelled sweetness. It was blood of a human; sweet and young, untainted. Perfect prey if he had any inclination to eat the creature, but he wasn't gross like that. Stupid they were, but humans were not food to him. He may be only a half god, but he was not as low as a demon.

He heard quiet sniffling.

A child. Of course.

There was warmth in the air pressing against him and Akira felt like gagging at it. How disgusting. What was coming? What sort of child had this warmth?  
Steps were coming closer and all of a sudden they were on top of him, light piercing into the sacred grave land of his mother.

It was a child, small and pale. He looked male judging from his clothing. He wore glass on his face, and the eyes behind the glass were magnified to such an extent that his eyes looked so grossly large. Innocence dripped from him and his soul light was…

The child turned, and in the darkness, they met eyes.

It was a blindly light that exploded upon him, meeting those eyes. The boy's soul spilled out of him like an overfilled cup. It was so bright and pure. Akira felt something stir at the sight, clashing eyes with someone so open and clean. This child was so young and naive. It wasn't all too strange. A lot of human children had such bright souls, but soon they were tarnished by their dark desires and evil hearts.

But this human, he was so bright like uncontaminated gold. Akira could see everything in him, every nook and cranny of his being. A soul so clean it was like looking at the sun. So bright! So bright it was blinding.

Akira slinked away, hiding in the darkness. He knew that the child couldn't see him in the night, but he hid anyways. Children were more likely to see a spirit. Their minds still open enough to believe in those from the other world.

The boy's eyes were wet, as he went through the small clearing, calling out for his mother and father.

So, he was lost.

In this forest, with the demons prowling and the hungry spirits, he didn't have much chance to survive. The wilderness was unforgiving for foolish stupid humans.

The boy was going to die. And he should. Akira knew that, wanted that, even.

So, why did he follow him deeper in the forest?

His presence in the area was scaring off all the potential predators that wished to feast on the boy's delicious looking soul. He felt the eyes of the damned creatures and spirits watching them. If Akira left, the boy would be annihilated, his untarnished soul ripped to pieces and eaten. That was what should happen.

But for some reason he kept following, not able to stay away from the light for too long, not able to let the boy out of his sight, and therefore kept the beasts at bay.

He didn't know how long he followed for because he never kept time. It was meaningless for him. All he knew was that the boy was becoming more and more distraught as he traveled deeper in the forest.

Akira traveled from shadow to shadow, sometimes close enough to be suffocated by the boy's warmth, blinded by his light.

It wasn't until they came to a deep chasm at the edge of the forest that Akira risked being exposed. The boy stepped out and Akira watched mercilessly as he stepped off the cliff. It was a sure death and Akira wanted to walk back into the confines of the forest, and ignore the boy's distress, but in a sudden weak second, he let out a frustrated growl and leapt off of the cliff and grabbed the boy by the collar. The boy screamed, loud and so afraid, and usually Akira enjoyed the screams of a human suffering, but this boy's sounds were just so grating, unwelcomed. He wanted to make them stop.

He flew up into the night sky and then gently landed on the cliff edge. The boy was quiet now, gasping as if he couldn't catch his breath. Did he break or something?

Akira dropped him unceremoniously on the ground, and the boy yelped as he hit the floor. He turned around and his round innocent eyes stared up at Akira.

Akira glared back down at him.

Then he did something strange.

He smiled.

He smiled, and the blue of his eyes was beautiful as the sky, as pure and deep as the ocean. A glow lit from him, from that slight curve of his lips, a light shone as if he himself were the sun.

"Ah! Thank you! Thank You! Thank you for saving me! Um... My name is Onoda Sakamichi!" He fixed the glass on his face, blinking his vivid eyes, and he got off the floor. "What's your name?"

He found himself replying, with no control over his own tongue, so entranced with that smile. "Akira."

The boy's smile beamed at him, stronger than the gold in the sky.

"Akira!? Akira-sama! I like your name! Really! It sounds like you!" His smile made his face glow, and something sharp pierced Akira's chest.

_"You are pure, my son. You were named Akira because you are as pure and as clear as the most beautiful water." She reaches into the pool they are sitting in, scaring the fish that had settled around them, "See! Look!"_

_Akira listens and eagerly looks at the liquid cupped in her hands. It looks like there is nothing there and Akira has to touch it with a finger to make sure the water is truly there. The water ripples at his disturbance and she lets the cool colorless liquid run through her fingers back into the shallow pool. "When water is clean and pure and clear, it's beautiful. Like you, Akira. You are beautiful, my child. Wonderful and pure. Never forget that, my son, never."_

What would his mother say now? She wouldn't recognize the blackness of his soul. What a filthy swamp he had become. The name didn't suit him anymore, but he refused to be called anything else.

"Don't speak, human." Akira growled, but he stared and stared at the smile. Why had he given his name to a mere mortal, an insect of earth? One did not reveal his name to an ant that crawled upon them. More than that, why had he saved him? What was going on? Was the boy a spirit? Why did he shine so bright?

The light of his smile faded just slightly, "Ah...Akira-sama… Are you an angel?" The boy asked, directly disobeying him.

Akira widened his eyes at the boy, and then a cruel mocking laugh escaped him, forcefully exploding from his mouth, and he had to double over too because it was such a stupid foolish question.

The boy was smiling at him as he laughed, and when Akira finally collected himself, he spat in his face, "Idiot Human! Do I look like an angel?! Fool!"

The boy shrugged his tiny breakable shoulders, and cocked his head, "I've never seen an angel before so I don't know, but you saved me, so you must be an angel. You're too amazing to be like me." He reached his small thin arms to the sky, "You can fly! And you're so tall! It's so cool! It's amazing! So I think you're an angel."

The way his smile shone so bright reminded him of someone. He could see the golden light expelling from his soul. He had only seen one other soul so bright and pure. It looked so… sacred, so holy.

It was like his beautiful, human mother. Was that why he had followed the light? Because it was like his mother's?

Akira took a step back, watching the child with his large black eyes, "Leave!" He suddenly growled. Light or not, this human was useless and stupid and disgusting. This was not his mother nor her light. Just a gross little human boy.

The boy blinked, "Akira-sama! Am I botherin-"

"LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE NOW!" Akira shouted. He wanted to reach out and blow out the light of his soul, feel the burn of the boy's life scar his skin. A hate growing in him. Hate and Fear. This human had the sun, the holy, burning sun in him. Like his mother, like his wonderful mother, who was gone, never to return. He didn't want to see this child. He didn't want to remember the smile of her graceful lips, her quiet sweet words, didn't want to remember how he had watched the life leave her body, the flesh fall from her bones, the bones turn to ash.

The boy widened his sky blue eyes, alarmed for a moment, "But…but I'm scared. It's dark and I'm lost! Can-Can I stay with you?"

Stay? Wasn't the boy afraid? He was a monster; pale skin and black jutting eyes beneath his long midnight hair. The boy thought he was an angel. What a foolish little human. He grinned maliciously. He should kill the boy, take him into the sky, and drop him. Wait to watch the shinigami to come and collect his soul. Destroy him to keep painful memories from attacking him.

"I'll take you." Akira said, and hunched down so that he was eye level with the boy. The boy looked so happy, "To my mom and dad? Really!?" He paused, and bit his lip, "Are… we going to go flying again? I-I'm kinda scared."

Akira's grin stayed, his large tombstone teeth shining in the moonlight, a cheshire smile, "Oh. Don't you trust me? I'm an angel, didn't you say?"

The boy lifted his hands, waving them frantically, "NO! I DO trust you! Of course! With all my heart!" Akira's smile became a tad smaller at that, and the boy looked sheepish, "It's...It's just I'm scared of how high we go."

Akira felt his heart pounding, "Are you scared to die, little human? You think I might drop you?"

"NO! I don't think that at all! I think you are a good person, Akira-sama! I promise I do! You saved me! You are a good person! I think you are a really good person! Really!"

Akira stared at him.

_"They hate me."_

_His mother sweeps her hand through his loose hair, "No, They fear you. Not hate."_

_Akira doesn't agree. They do hate him, "They hate me because I am evil." She brings him to her chest, hugging him close and so tight that it would hurt if he could feel pain,"No! Akira, never say those things! You are not evil! You are good, so good!"_

_Akira shakes his head, "No! No! I'm not good! I don't do any good!" He cries out. It's true. The villagers hate them because things happen around him, because there is evil in him. They call his mother a witch and shout at her because of him._

_"Listen to me, Akira. You make me so happy! You are so good, so kind, and you make me so glad. You are good, my son. You are a good. Your soul is good. Don't worry about what they say. You and I know what you really are. Good, straight down to your very heart._

The memory passed through his mind so quickly and he tore his gaze from the boy's smile. "Gross." He muttered.

He wanted to get rid of the boy, "Well, do you want to go or not?"

The boy started and nodded his furiously, "Yeah! I want to go! Uh… Th-Thank you!"

Akira grabbed the back of his jacket, taking off the ground. The boy squirmed so much that Akira finally hauled him up to his chest, wrapping a hand around his tiny waist.

It was disgusting how warm he was, so happy in the arms of the one who could so easily kill him. What a fool.

He wanted to drop the boy, watch him helplessly fall to the ground and crash magnificently on the hard unforgiving earth.

But, instead, he tightened his arms hard enough so that the boy squirmed, but didn't tell him to stop. His arm was locked around the boy's frame, and even as he tried, his body was committing mutiny against him, disobeying. He couldn't let go.

What was this?

"This is amazing, Akira-sama! I feel like I can touch the stars! The moon looks so big." He outstretched his arms to the sky, and in the air, flying here in his arms, the boy truly was the sun.

Something welled up in Akira's heart, a place he didn't realize existed anymore. It was so warm, so filling and satisfying, feeling the weight of the boy's body in his arms, the joy spilling from his pores, drenching everything in sight.

Akira swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut.

_"Akira! You are so amazing! I'm so lucky to have a son like you!"_

_Akira smiles, wide tombstone teeth, so happy at the praise. "Do you want me to take you?"_

_His mother's eyes widen, "Flying!? Oh! I don't know! It looks so amazing, but I have never been off the ground before! I'm not as brave as you, Akira!"_

_Akira steps forward, awkwardly grabbing her thin cotton robe, fisting it nervously. "I can give you a piggyback ride. Just get on my back."_

_He is so much taller than his mother now, long and lanky, and she is so little and frail. It won't be a problem to take her flying. "I promise I won't drop you. I won't let you go, mother, never! I promise! I'll take you flying on my back."_

_She smiles, fondness in her expression, but it is short lived because she begins to cough, covering her mouth and when she pulls it away, there is red. She lets out a quiet breath, "Can you take me another day, Akira? I'm very tired today."_

_Akira feels disappointed, but nods, "Okay, I guess we can do it another day." She wipes her hand on a rag in her pocket, and reaches for Akira, bringing him close, "Another day we can go flying." She says again and Akira smiles against her snow white hair._

They never did go flying. When Akira lifted his mother into the air, her soul had already been taken, and he was so angry, so confused that he went to his father and asked for the impossible.

Was this what it would have felt like? Holding her like this, flying in the air? Is that why his body refused to listen to him? His mind knew that it wasn't his mother he was carrying, but his body seemed not to care, reacting to the light that was so familiar and yet not at all.

Akira wanted to fight, to take control, but it was so warm and filling that the pleasure of holding the boy outweighed his pride and hate and fear.

For a moment, he felt real and alive again.

They flew for so long that the boy began to quiet and the long beams of light began to invade the comfortable darkness. Akira set down on the ground, near the edge of the forest, where he could see humans gathering, calling out for the boy. Many humans were there. People cared about the boy, loved him, and missed him.

Akira shifted to look at the boy in his arms and saw him sleeping at total ease in the arms of a creature like him. He gave his trust too easily. Akira had full intentions of dropping him to the ground, but thought better of it, and gently set him down at the foot of a large tree, leaning him against the old trunk. He whimpered and refused to let go of his hold on Akira's black sleeve. It made Akira feel wanted and he had to choke down a painful lurch of rushing emotion.

Emotion… How gross.

He pulled away until the boy let go of him, his breath even and his face serene. Even in sleep with his eyes closed, his light was so penetrative, so beautiful. Akira stayed there, hovering over him, and then he leaned down, placing his ear over his heart, hearing a rhythmic beat of the blood being pushed through his body.

He used to do this with his mother; he would press himself against her chest, so fascinated with her heartbeat because it felt so different from his.

The boy's heart was soothing, even and healthy, and sounded so perfect. It filled something in Akira, and he doesn't want to stop listening. So he laid there until his skin burned with the sun's glaring angry rays, offended that a creature of the night was so outrightly defiant in the sun's reign.

The sun was so petty sometimes.

Finally, the humans looking for the boy came in too close, and even though most adults could not see deities, he was still part human so he should be careful. Humans fear and strike out at whatever they can not understand. He had learned that from experience.

Akira reluctantly leaned away, and even away from the boy, he could still hear his heartbeat in his mind. He stared at the figure laying there, watched and waited.

After a moment, after he was satisfied, he crawled away, curling himself in the cover of some trees.

He watched the humans find the boy and how excited they were at finding him, safe and sound. They woke him and a woman grabbed him and held him tight. All mothers do that, Akira mused. The boy's mother is also bright, not as clean and pure, but still shining.

But no one could compare to the boy.

The boy was also excited and he started going on about how an angel saved him, and how he went flying with the angel. Akira snorted, annoyed at being called an angel.

The adults around the boy laughed, of course, because they don't believe him. They humored him, but Akira could see their mocking looks. The boy detached himself from his mother, and then his sky blue eyes swept the forest surrounding them. Akira hid further, realizing that the boy was looking for him. "Ah! Akira-sama!" The boy called out, even if he can't see Akira hiding there, "Akira-sama! Thank you! Thank you for saving me! I will come back to look for you! I promise! Thank you so much!"

Akira grimaced at the use of his name, but also felt a certain stirring in his stomach at the promise. Does he want to see this foolish little boy again?

No. He wanted to forget this entire ordeal and go back to not feeling anything. He watched the boy be picked up by his mother and Akira felt a jolt of nostalgia. He pushed it away. He had too many memories resurface today and he wasn't enjoying it.

He kept his eyes on the retreating back of the people, on the boy's face over the shoulder of the woman, beaming at the forest. He was still shining, competing with the sun, and Akira stared and stared until his light disappeared from view.

Akira let out a breath, laying out in the branches of the trees. He drags fingernails down his face, trying to forget the feel of the light facing him. The boy's face is so perfect in his memory, and yet such a weak imitation. He missed him and Akira growled at his thoughts. Disgusting! Gross! Pathetic! That stupid human boy was not worth anything. Akira was sure, that even though his human side longed to see the boy again, he embraced his deity side and spat at the idea of missing a human.

No, he decided.

He never wanted to see Onoda Sakamichi again.

* * *

It felt like mere moments, but it must have been longer, and he found himself looking at his bright blue again.

Time had passed. Many human years, because the boy is no longer a boy.

Akira had spent the last human years sleeping, drifting aimlessly in the dark span of the universe. He spent it hiding from this human, avoiding remembering that fateful day they met, even if it would strike him daily, the memory and sight of his soul.

Today, he was visiting his mother's grave once again, and he had found the man kneeling there, his soul still so bright and full.

When Akira saw him, he snapped back into the darkness of the trees. What was the boy doing here!? Had he truly kept his promise? He kept returning! When would he stop!? Akira watched him.

He scribbled on a piece of paper, the glass shining in the sun's light. He looked so innocent and harmless, but Akira knew better.

Why was he hiding? He was not afraid, he told himself, even if a cold drenching terror filled his stomach, mixed with something… hopeful. No, to get rid of an insect you had to crush it under your foot. He decided to do just that.

He stepped out into the sun's light, and winced at the beams attacking him. The sun really disliked him, didn't she?

He suddenly remembered that adults often can't see those of the spirit world, and Akira waited for the man to react, if he was a rare one that can see.

It wasn't really a surprise when the boy looked up and gasped, dropping the book and scrambled to his feet. He looked so overjoyed, that for a moment, Akira forgot that he was an insect he needed to squash. He looked so holy and ethereal.

"Aki-Akira-sama! I can't-! " The man leaned forward, so excited.

His name sounded so rich in his tones, so wanted and praised, and Akira realized that he made a bad decision revealing himself again. He should have continued avoiding the bright soul of this human. It's...It's too addicting, too satisfying.

"You remember me." Akira accused, trying to sound hostile, but all that came out was a breathy, awed whisper.

The boy, no- the man's smile grew tenfold, "Of course! I could never forget it! No one believed me, but I knew you were real! That you saved me that night. I owe you everything. You know I visited every year, hoping I could find you."

Akira knew, could feel his skin crawl with warmth every time the boy entered the forest, neared the ground of his mother's grave, and he took great lengths to avoid ever seeing him.

His outer appearances had changed. He was a man, small and compact, but grown. But that hardly mattered because his soul, oh his rich pure soul, still shone so brightly, illuminating him.

Akira stepped back, standing straight instead of slouching as he usually did, acting regal, "You found me, human."

"Ah, it's Sakamichi! Akira-sama! I-I have so much to tell you!"

Akira lips curled, "Disgusting. You have no right to talk to me, insect. Why are you so bold?"

Sakamichi blinked, and then a red covered his cheeks, and the flush of color is so fascinating that Akira frowned and cocked his head, so perplexed by the sight.

"I'm sorry! I just… I felt like we became friends that night! I owe you everything, and I wanted to come back and thank you. You know…" He chuckled, brushing his hair back, "A lot of people thought I was crazy for believing you existed, but I dreamed of you every night. It was my goal to see you again…" His eyes fill with liquid, and it reminded him of how his mother's eyes used to crinkle and grow wet when the villagers threw rocks at her as they passed by. Akira never understood why. The sight distressed something in him and he crouched forward, eyes boring into Sakamichi's wet ones.

The man doesn't step back, isn't surprised at Akira's closeness, as he continued, "I'm- I'm so happy, Akira-sama. That I found you again. I'm so-" He reached out with a hand and tentatively touched Akira's arm. Akira recoiled away, and his skin burned like under a brand at the slight contact.

"Gross! DO NOT TOUCH me, human!" He shouted and slapped the hand away. Sakamichi's voice is high, and he quickly waved his hands in front of his face, "I'm so SORRY! I just- I was so- I was just so excited that I got to see you again! I- I'm so sorry! I will never try it ag-"

Akira glared at him. He wouldn't give him another chance to do so. He spat at the ground in front of him, his saliva scorching the ground at his feet as a warning. Sakamichi looked worried, and Akira wanted to laugh at it, but it got stuck in his throat. The touch on his arms is growing, little rivers of warmth stretching under his skin, tingling and pleasing. It felt feather soft and Akira wanted to rip off his arm. Gross! Gross! Disgusting!

He turned away, and flew into the forest, ignoring Sakamichi's desperate call. He does hear him say that he was going to be back tomorrow and that he would wait for Akira to return.

Akira cursed at him.

Sakamichi's soul was visible for miles, smelled so pure and clean, that it was luring all the ravenous creatures of the forest. Akira crouched in a tree near enough that his presences is warning all those nearby to not try anything. He doesn't know why, but he didn't want Sakamichi- no, the human-to die by anyone's hand, but his. That's what he tried to reason, anyway. He gripped his arm hard, marking into his moonlight skin with blunt nails. It was so strange that he can't feel pain, but he can feel Sakamic- no the human, the human, he scolded himself. It's strange that he still felt the human's touch as if he was still there, pressing his hand to him.

The human kept his promise, and returned the next day. And the next. And the day after that. Akira tries several times to leave the forest, but anytime he gets too far away, he ached and feared, and he found himself searching back to look for his soul.

It was disgusting.

The human kept returning, and Akira finally confronted him, so annoyed. He couldn't seem to stay away, couldn't seem to stop the warmth invading his body from that single damn touch.

So he drifted closer, some days coming only to yell at him, and Sakamichi always reacted the same to his appearance; always so joyous, no matter the reason why Akira came.

Other days, he sat in the underbrush and watched him, memorizing the lines of his face, they way his hand moved as he wrote with the wooden utensil. Other spirits came too like little foxes who realized that Akira wasn't going to bother with weak spirits like them. Sakamichi could see them, and played with them, and the spirits preened in Sakamichi's holy light.

It didn't take long for Akira to cave. He finally started to accept the fact that Sakamichi was strange and bright, and Akira liked the light. He was from the moon, but his mother had made him love the light.

He called him Sakamichi, and he always said it to mock him, but it was a double edged sword because Sakamichi would always light up with such strength at his name being called.

They talked, no, not they, he talked. Akira never had many words. Sakamichi would tell him of his life, of petty human things, and Akira listened. He listened to this insect talk about such mundane things. He couldn't rip himself away from his light. He became so comfortable, so routine.

Sakamichi started stay through the night tucked against a tree, and Akira would watch the moths gather around him forming a light halo over his head.

This human…. Sakamichi was….

He was beautiful.

Akira gripped the dirt under him, fire in his belly. What was it that he felt? Deep in his bones, a sharpness in his heart. He could not look away. What sort of power did Sakamichi have to make him feel so joyous and comfortable, but at the same time, so utter miserably and afraid?

Was it his soul? Is this why the demons ate them? Was he lusting after the fullness of the bright clean soul? He crept over, hovering over the man's still from, sleeping so peacefully. He could reach in and rip a hole into Sakamichi's chest and pull out his soul, like viscera from a body. He could shred it apart with his large white teeth. Is that what he wanted? He came closer, slipping out his tongue to taste the edge of his soul and it did taste so wonderful.

Should he just take it for his own? Would that answer the question in his heart?

Is that what he desired?

Akira hovered closer until his mouth was near his neck, his tongue reaching out farther to taste, but as he did, he touched moist smooth skin.

It burned. He was fire exploding in his lower stomach. It felt so good, so right. He craved something else. It was disgusting, tasting his flesh, but it made Akira's body writhe with pleasure. He licked again, with purpose, and he closed his eyes at the sensation.

Was this his humanity? Did he want to eat his flesh?

No, it wasn't that he wished to eat him, to ingest his flesh. It was something… more. He brought his hands to shackle the thin wrist of the man, and Sakamichi woke with a start. Akira was so close that he could see every single eyelash. "Akira-sama? What are you-"

Akira glared at him, "You are disgusting." He said, pulling his tongue back in.

Sakamichi looked apologetic, "Ah… I know. I'm human. I'm sorry about that-"

Akira let his tongue out again and licked a wide streak up a red cheek and over his temple. Sakamichi stiffened in his hold, and his eyes were suddenly so wide. "Aki-"

Akira brought his tongue against the speaking lips and Sakamichi stilled so quickly. He tasted him, wanting to eat him alive, but not at the same time.

This is what he wanted, to taste him like this. Sakamichi's soul was tinged with red, and though his soul was still bright and pure, red was leaking through. Red like the color of his cheeks. Something clawed through him, a want so deep and strong that he tightened his hands on Sakamichi's wrist until he yelled out in pain. Akira frowned, not liking the sound, and he let go of him.

"It's okay! Akira-sama, it was… just a little too tight." He was breathing hard, his blue eyes a little darker than usual. Akira leaned in closer, and Sakamichi leaned into him, "Akira-sama, I-"

His voice was thick, deep, and Akira could feel their weight, "Akira, I love you. I really do. I-"

Akira's eyes widened and he flew back hissing, "What! What!?"

Sakamichi stood up after him, "I- I'm sorry! It- It came out! You were kissing me so I thoug-"

"I was going to eat you." Akira spat out, eyes blazing with anger. How dare he! How dare he! Love was disgusting. Love was cruel and evil. Love was human.

What was he doing? Spending all this time with an insect? He was turning human! A disgusting putrid human! The same that had poisoned his mother because they were afraid. The same ones that would try to burn Akira and cried in fear when the fire danced on his skin leaving no marks. The same as those that he had burned alive, relishing in their screams of pain and agony.

Sakamichi was human. No matter how beautiful his soul was, no matter how he filled with light and joy, no matter how pleasing he tasted, he was a filthy, evil human.

How could he have been so blind?

He left Sakamichi, no the human, left the human, and hid in a tree, scratching at his memory, trying to rid himself of the feel of his warmth.

Warmth from a putrid, vile human.

* * *

Many sun and moons passed before he left his tree. He didn't feel the warmth of Sakamichi anymore, and he wanted to vomit when he felt his heart sink at the thought of him gone. It was a constant battle between his humanity and his deity, and Akira wanted to cut off the human out of himself.

He floated up over the treetops scanning the horizon. The sun was setting and Akira welcomed the upcoming night.

He suddenly whirled around feeling someone powerful coming his way.

A human was flying to him, thin and slender, dark hair with ocean blue eyes. Akira's eyes widened when he recognized that spirit.

No, not a human.

A deity.

A god.

The Wind God, brother of his father, troublemaker and incredibly destructive.

Akira prepared himself for a confrontation. The god stopped near him, calling out, "Ah, Akira. How are you?"

Akira started at him. The Wind God was not one you can trust. Why was the Wind God here, and why was he in a human form? Another whim? Was he bored once again?

The god floated closer, a light breeze ruffled the leaves of the forest, "I am doing very fine, if you wanted to ask. I had the most interesting conversation with a human today, by the way. Perhaps you should meet him also."

Akira's eyes narrowed, "What?"

What was he up too?

"One by the name of Sakamichi. A nice human as far as humans come. He has the most beautiful soul I have ever seen though. And he seemed to be marked as well. It was so strange." The god laid out flat in the air, crossing his hands behind his head, "I introduced myself. He was fascinated and not afraid at all." He smiled, " Oh! I have a human name now! You're not the only one anymore, Akira."

The Wind God was mocking him. He could feel it. He felt anger burn in his bones.

The Wind God merely grinned that falsely innocent smile of his, "It's Sangaku! His name is Sakamichi so I went with Sangaku. Feels nice on the tongue. SAN-GA-KU." He said slowly and let himself fall down so that he was looking up at Akira, and his smile was tighter, darker…

"Almost as nice as Sa-ka-mi-chi…" His grin grew at the slight, unintentional flinch in Akira's face. The Wind God had perfectly replicated Akira's mocking tone when he talked to Sakamichi. Which meant…

A shiver ran down his spine and he narrowed his eyes at him, "You've been watching." He accused viciously.

He laughed that eerie, light laugh that deceived one on how terrifying this creature was, "How could I not! So strange to see you of all talking to a human. I was so bored, but I'll be truthful and say that I do like Sakamichi. He is fascinating." The eyes of his pretty human form blinked up at him, and Akira could see the interest in his eyes.

"Leave it alone." Akira hissed, still not acknowledging the fear that passed through his being at the thought that the Wind God was fascinated by Sakamichi, "It's a game I'm playing."

The Wind God smiled, showing teeth, "I do enjoy games, Akira. Why not include me? Sakamichi is an excellent play thing."

Akira twisted his neck grotesquely, and the fear caught in his throat. He could not react in front of this monster. What would he do if he out found how much he cared about the human? "It's mine. I claimed it."

"Are you going to eat him?" The Wind God said, twirling in the air, "I know you tasted him. His soul probably is exquisite. I mean I do think that I would love a taste, if I ate souls."

Akira glared at him, "What I do with the human is my business, Fujin, not yours."

"It's Sangaku," The Wind God replied airily, "I told you, dear nephew." Akira growled at the familiarity. He was also so annoyed by the Wind God referring to Sakamichi as he and him instead of it. It meant that the Wind God acknowledged Sakamichi as a being.

"But, I understand, Akira. I won't bother him. I don't want to start another war. Well, perhaps not this century. But you know, Sakamichi considers me a friend. I never had one of those. I usually kill humans when I'm bored, but Sakamichi is interesting. I have never seen such a pure soul." He smiled wickedly, "Like father like son, no?"

Akira flew higher, disgusted by his comment, "Leave it alone. I'll do away with him when I'm ready."

The Wind God grinned. "Oh, alright. I won't hurt him. I told you, Akira, I like Sakamichi. If he caught your eyes, he must be something." His eyes shifted, and Akira suddenly saw his real self shine through, the terribly great and horrible black of his eyes, "If you don't want him I'll take him, young one."

Akira didn't look back at his sneering face as he flew away, already in search of Sakamichi.

He found him dipping his feet into a pool, tree spirits surrounding him, little foxes jumping on the shores, barking playfully at him.

"You met the Wind God." Akira accused loudly, and Sakamichi was so startled that he slipped and fell on his bottom in the water. Akira couldn't help a cruel sneer form on his face. "Ah, you mean Sangaku? He's...He's a god?"

Akira glared at the ground. So the Wind God hadn't told him of his title. "Stay wary of him." He said, and took a step back to the forest.

He could have flown away, but he stayed on the ground. Sakamichi rushed out of the water, following him desperately, "Wait! Akira-sama! I'm sorry about the other day! I didn't-"

"You didn't mean it." Akira snapped at him from over his shoulder. The man stopped and shook his head hard, "No, that's not true."

Akira frowned and turned around to face him. "What was that?"

Sakamichi tightened his jaw, his round innocent eyes sharpening, "I meant what I said. I do love you."

Akira wanted to strangle him. Love had hurt him so long ago. He hated it.

"Say it one more time and I'll kill you, Human" Akira growled, fire lighting from his jaw. He could kill the human so easily, so simply. He could do it with his hands, with his teeth, with fire from his mouth. So simple to crush that small frail figure, burn that delicious tasting flesh. "What is your answer."

Sakamichi stared at him, his eyes calculating, "If I tell you the truth, you'll kill me?"

Akira grinned, "Yes."

Show your weakness, Sakamichi. Show your humanity, your depravity.

Sakamichi closed his eyes and Akira felt so victorious until he opened them again and it was a burst of light so powerful that Akira flinched.

"I- I love you. I don't understand how… or when it happened, but I do… So…"

He looked away, and instead of fear as he should be feeling, he had the red color on his cheeks, blood moving quickly under the skin of his face. That was not fear.

He should kill him, take him up and strangle him until the human did. Did fear.

Love.

Disgusting.

"I'm sorry." Sakamichi said quietly, "I know… I know it's weird but… It's how I feel and I'm not going to lie about it."

There was a burning in him growing like waves crashing on the shore. He hates it. It feels so real, so different, and so familiar.

Akira felt the anger drain right out of him. "Gross." He said, and hovers off the ground. "Whatever. I don't feel like killing you today. You're lucky."

Sakamichi looked surprised. "Ah...thank you so much." He got out of the river, and walked over to Akira, "So… can we be friends, Akira-sama?"

Akira flew away from him, "No. Never. I'm just going to be around so when I feel like it, I can kill you quickly. There is no point in running away." He warned, sneering, "So don't think about it."

Sakamichi shook his head, "No. I wouldn't anyways,but.. ah, I do go back into town. That's where my house is. Even though I sometimes live out here, I have a home there. I sometimes sleep there! I'm not running away though! I promise."

Akira looked out to the city. Gross.

"I'll go with you so you don't even think about escaping, you gross little human."

Sakamichi lit up at the declaration, "Really!? I can make you dinner! And I have another bed you can sleep in!"

Akira growled at him, "Shut up. I'm going to kill you. Don't you understand that?"

Sakamichi looked sheepish, "Ah...right, but...I think I'll enjoy your...ah.. presence in the meantime."

What an idiot human.

"It's your life." Akira replied, dangerously.

And he stuck close to him, careful to warn the deities that he had claimed the human. He was especially wary of demons, and he wondered how Sakamichi had survived this long without getting eaten.

He joined Sakamichi in his life, biding his time for when he can't stand him anymore, so he could strike him down.

The day never came.

It happened so slowly, that Akira didn't realize what he was doing until he was right in the middle of it. It took many earth years, but Sakamichi was so persistent.

He never said the words back, and didn't think he ever would, but he couldn't deny that he was what the humans called happy. Akira was happy. Sakamichi made him happy, full, and content. He gave him a life that he wanted to live.

He would often grumble at Sakamichi being so human, so loving ,and honest. He would complain about his playful smile and his bright honest eyes. He lived once again after all the years of loneliness from his mother's departure. He felt alive again.

He felt something towards Sakamichi that he hadn't even felt toward his mother. They were different in his mind now. Sakamichi no longer was a reminder of his mother's great light. He had his own now. It was sometimes tinged with the blushing red in the dark of the night when Akira caved to his humanity. Other times hued blue of sadness, like when Sakamichi's mother died. No matter the bleeding edges though, it was always clean, pure, and so bright, always bright.

Time didn't touched them. They lived on and on, with only each other to cling to.

Except for the occasional visit of the Wind God. Akira hated the obvious infatuation that the Wind God had with his human. He would always smile so annoyingly when he came by to visit, always taking away Sakamichi's attention, sticking around to spite Akira. At first he would always ask Akira if the time was nearing for the event of feasting on Sakamichi's soul but as time grew on, the Wind God, Sangaku, Akira found himself calling him, became so attached to Sakamichi, and Akira could sometimes feel the envy dripping from him.

Sakamichi always reassured him in the quiet hush of the night that he loved him, and only him, and that he didn't have to worry. That Sangaku was a very good friend, and that he could never take Akira's place in his heart.

"I've loved you since we met." He confessed one night, his eyes watching Akira intently, " I know I was only ten, but I think I fell in love with you then. I wanted to be with you always so I dedicated my life to find you again. I never dreamed that…"

Akira couldn't look at him, not liking the feelings coming up to choke him. "Go to sleep. You gross humans need sleep."

Sakamichi blinked at him, something passing through his eyes. Something sad and disappointed, "Of course. I'll go to sleep. Good night, my love."

Akira bit the inside of his cheek and the words spilled out his mouth, "...Dreamed of what? Go ahead and tell me your gross human feelings, but hurry up."

Sakamichi smiled at him, his gaze so deeply loving, "I never dreamed that you would let me love you, Akira."

Akira grit his teeth, "Whatever." He grounded out, but he felt so pleased, so loved.

Sakamichi reached out to his face, leaning forward to gently touch his lips. Akira didn't pull away. It had been years upon earth years since he pulled away. His touch still burned, still set Akira's nerves on fire, but he welcomed the flames, knowing how good, how right it was. "I love you, Akira." Sakamichi whispered, "Forever and ever."

Akira grimaced at his words, "I know. Sleep already." Sakamichi just smiled back at him.

For the first time in a very, very long time, Akira was so thankful for his immortality. If this was what the rest of time had to offer, he was glad it was eternal.

It was perfect, everything was so right, so well.

But, one day, Akira had to open his eyes to the truth.

"I'm really tired today, Akira."

Akira flipped over in the air, "Oh don't be lazy, Sakamichi. Get up!" He pulled at the sheets, but he stopped when Sakamichi smiled tightly, "I know you wanted to go flying today, but…."

The words stirred a memory, and he landed back down on the floor, "Sakamichi, what is wrong with you?" Akira walked over to the bedside, and he put a hand on Sakamichi's hair pulling at the grey strands, "Are you…"

Sakamichi's eyes are still so bright, even as they blinked up at him, "Oh, it's nothing! Akira, I am just tired. I'm human, remember?" His eyes dimmed a little, and Akira shifted uncomfortably, feeling like this was so familiar, but he couldn't place it.

"I guess if you're so lazy you can stay in bed." Akira drawled out and he rolled his eyes at the smile that Sakamichi beamed at him, "Akira, you are so kind." He reached out with a hand, and Akira frowned at how much it trembled as it came up to caress his face.

"I love you, Akira."

Akira scrunched his nose at the words. Sakamichi always told him that, especially lately, "Yeah, so you've told me a million times. Stop being so sentimental, Sakamichi."

He laughed and sighed, "Right. Sorry for being so touchy feely, my love."

Akira groaned at the sweet name and floated up before dropping himself back into the bed. He reached for Sakamichi, winding his arms around his small frail figure. He was hot, not warm like usual, and he frowned at how much thinner he felt, but Sakamichi let out a breath against his throat, distracting him with pleasure and it was so lulling that he closed his eyes, and caved to something so human as sleep.

He felt a presence in the room and he woke with a start. He felt fire in his mouth ready to burn the intruder to death when he saw who it was.

A shinigami.

Akira frowned. What was a reaper doing here in his home? Was he some sort of messenger? Did his father need something after all this time?

Akira floated up from the bed, his wings folding back against his torso. "What are you doing here?"

The Shinigami revealed black pointed teeth. He has always hated Shinigamis. They were wicked and cruel. Especially after they took his mother's soul. "I am here to collect."

Akira snorted, "Oh? Someone sent you for me?" He said, sneering back, but there was a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The Shinigami had no shame, no feeling as he said the next words, "No. I am here for the human's soul."

Akira whipped around to see Sakamichi. His eyes were closed, brow furrowed, and he was breathing hard, as if he couldn't catch his breath.

Akira stared at him for a moment. That… That couldn't be right. Sakamichi was healthy. He was fine. He was just tired. There must've been a mistake. He whirled around and met the reaper's black eyes. He could see nothing in those eyes, "You're wrong." He screamed at it, and rage made his form start to transform, black sharp scales piercing through his skin, his wings sprouting from his back and his claws dug into the wood of the floor.

Fear passed through the eyes of the shinigami.

The shinigami was afraid. They could not die,but they felt pain, felt fear. Akira was going to bite into it, rip it to shreds and burn the pieces to ashes, knowing that he would feel every strike. That was what he deserved for making such a mistake, for coming here and saying such things. Sakamichi would not die. He would never die.

He launched forward and the death reaper flew back, his eyes wide. Akira was about to attack him with fire when he heard a ragged call, "Aki-"

He stilled and turned around, his dragon form crashing everything in the room. Sakamichi's eyes were on him, gripping the sheets in one hand, "Plea-" He panted, gasping and he closed his eyes, tears falling down. Akira scratched at the floorboards, and his dragon form fell away as fast as it had come. He took quick and fast steps to the side of bed, dropping to his knees. He can't fight the Shinigami yet. He had to make sure that Sakamichi didn't see, made sure that he went back to peaceful sleep.

For some reason, Sakamichi looked like he was in pain, and Akira didn't understand why.

"Sakamichi, this idiot made a mistake. Go back to sleep. I'll take care of this gross insect." He wanted to get up and fight, and kill and destroy. There was something happening in his heart, a desperate pain in his chest, something gripping his heart so hard that even he can feel it, even he who has never been hurt before can feel this pain. It was unbearable. Why did he feel this? It felt… familiar.

Sakamichi shook his head, "No, wai-" He stopped gasping for a breath, reaching out to grab his hand and Akira stared at him. His light was dimming, the brightness wasn't as blinding, not as full. "Sakamichi…" He whined, "What are you doing...? Stop this. Stop…."

He didn't understand why Sakamichi was acting so weird. All this felt so familiar, it made him fear.

Had he been here before, kneeling by a bedside, watching someone…

watching someone…

...die?

He looked down at the hand clutching his. It's pale and wrinkled, dark veins almost see through. When had Sakamichi…. when had he grown old? Why had he grown old? And why hadn't he noticed? He looked up at Sakamichi's eyes. There were lines of age in his face, but his eyes looked as young as ever.

"No…" He whispered, grabbing the hand, "No. No. No. No." He kept repeating it over and over again, wishing it was a spell. Sakamichi would not die. No, never. He would never let him die.

He pulled him into his arms, flying off the ground. He gripped him to his chest, and kissed him, trying to put life essence into him, something that the immortals threw around so freely. The essence flowed into him, and for a moment Akira sighed a breath of relief.

It was short lived as the essence flowed right out of him. Akira tried again, and once again, it drifted out of Sakamichi, floating uselessly in the air. Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't it staying?

He knows why. No matter how much life he tried to breath into him, his old battered body couldn't sustain it. Humans were not meant to live forever.

"No…" He said against Skamichi's lips, kissing him desperately now, gripping him tighter. Sakamichi murmured against him, "Aki-Akira." He whispered, his breath soft now, his heartbeat slow against his chest. "Akira, I love y-you. Y-You made me so... so happy. I love-"

Akira was breathing so hard now, and he felt water on his cheeks, his humanity showing itself, "I-I love you." It felt so wrong to say it for the first time at this moment. He could have said it years ago. He should have said it when Sakamichi first said it. It was so late now, "I love you. I love you. Don't leave me, please not you too. Please." Sakamichi's hand came up to grip his shoulder, nails digging in, and Akira continued his mantra, claiming the words, trying to make up for all the time he had lost. Sakamichi whispered in his ear, "I love you too. I'll love you until my final breath and after that, too. I promise. I love you. Forever and ever."

Those are the last words he heard from him.

When Sakamichi's soul left the empty shell of his body, it was a bright sun dawning. It was so beautiful, so breathtaking that it seems like it could be the sun, drowning out the pretentious light in the sky.

It's Sakamichi's last gift to the world.

Akira still clutched the body in his arms, eyes red as blood, and he watched the shinigami collect that beautiful golden soul.

* * *

_The face of his Father is pale as the moon he reigns over, his long never ending hair spans into the universe, like the eternal night, and he wears the stars on his robe. Akira does not look at him directly, hatred in his heart. His mother's body lays at his feet, floating weightlessly._

_"Why?" His voice is swallowed by the the universe, and he feels light on him when his father turns to him. When he speaks, it is a thunderous waterfall, many waters crashing against a sea cliff, "Humans are but flowers, my son. They bloom bright and beautifully, but their season passes and they must wilt. They must fade and die. Such is their place in the universe." The voice quiets to the hush of the night._

_"Why." It is said again, not a question, never a question, but an accusation. Why must humans die, why was the only being he ever loved a mortal. He still does not look at his Father for he is afraid, but the hatred keeps him there._

_"Do not be deceived, child. The humanity in you cries, but the god…" Akira looks up and finds himself trapped in the dark frightening orbs that are his father's eyes, black as the dark side of the moon, "The god in you knows this is what is right." Those round impossibly large eyes look down at the figure of the woman, youth faded from her, her once honey colored hair white as snow, "She had the sun in her, and so I coveted. I wanted to feel the sun again." His eyes shot up once again to the emotionless face of the boy floating there, "But she wilted, as they all do. Be wary, son of mine. The sun is deceitful." His eyes turn sharp, fiery hate in them, "Be wary."_

_Akira turns away, and floats down to wrap his arms round the limp, empty form of his mother._

_How he wanted to weep, how he wanted to scream, but she is gone, and nothing will bring her back._

_He leaves that day, turning his back to the moon, to his father, and returns to the putrid stench of the village his mother lived in._

_He burns the village to the ground that day, takes his true and terrible form, and spits fire upon the filth of the people; who all their petty, meaningless lives had done nothing, but mock a god and his mother._

_When he finishes, he sit in the ashes laying next to her, and watches time eat her away, sits there watching the earth take her for it's own._

_And he swears never to love another human again._

What had happened to that promise, that swear? He was a fool that doesn't learn from his mistakes.

He sat hovering over the still figure of his beloved, watching the sun highlight his face. His face was so peaceful in death, so serene. He didn't know the wreckage, the pain he was leaving behind.

He can still hear him, the full rich tones of his voice call his name in the dark night. 'Akira, Akira'.

"Akira."

He started,turning his eyes to see the Wnd God standing there in his disgusting human form. What was he doing here? Why was he here? Akira only wanted peace, a moment to grieve. Why was the god here?

He wasn't looking at Akira. He was looking at Sakamichi laying in the cold dirt floor. He was staring hard, his pupils dilated, boring holes.

"He really is gone."

Akira wanted to kill him, but against the holy deity he can not match. It would be like a child fighting a giant, but the anger burned in him. Why is the Wind God here?

The Wind God strayed closer, "I never felt this before... Never felt anything before."

Akira didn't react to him, and turned away to also stare at Sakamichi's prone figure.

Strange that even in death, he was beautiful.

"I'm keeping my name. I'll be Sangaku for eternity now." The Wind God said, and he took a step nearer, not to Akira, but to Sakamichi.

Akira hissed at him, his back arching and fire flaming on his tongue, his black scales threatening to pierce through his delicate pale skin, his form transforming in his rage, ready to sink his teeth into his enemy. The Wind God looked at him, unafraid. The eyes of his human form were blue, but they lacked any life. They were hollow and haunted, "I just want to watch. I-" His eyes drifted over to the figure laying there, "I feel it. It's a wound in me that I can not seem to heal." He looked at his hands, staring wide eyed at them, "I wish he were not human."

Akira narrowed his eyes at the god, not trusting his words. For this god to feel something, anything for a human was laughable.

He didn't believe him, but he understood what he said. Was the god experiencing pain? Could he feel this loss?

He let his rage fall away. It was a burden so heavy for his already weak state. The pain weighed him down enough. If the Wind God wanted to stay, so be it. Akira didn't care.

Sangaku kneeled next to him, sinking to the floor with strange humanity.

They sat there, not needing breath or food, not wanting to move, just watching the sun fade from Sakamichi's profile and then the moon, and then the sun once again.

Times passed, touching everything but the two immortals sitting in their quiet mourning.

Sangaku made a small undecipherable noise, and then he spoke.

"They come back, I heard."

Akira glanced at him, and his eyes made contact with the god.

Sangaku continued, "Their souls return to earth, and they live again. It takes hundreds of earth years, but they do. I never cared before, but…." The eyes turned black, void, and Akira saw the power in him, the deity in him. " I thirst for him. I want him to return."

There was something so dark interlaced in his words, but the meaning of the declaration was so hope filled.

Would Sakamichi return? Would he come back to him? His mother had never returned, but then again, he had never looked for her, didn't know she could came back.

Perhaps she was alive now, walking in a new body, shining light at those fortunate to face her. Maybe he would look for her.

Could he find his loved ones again?

Sakamichi was gone now, but if what the Wind God said was true, could he return? And if he did, what of it? It would just be this again. Loving only to lose once more.

He wished again that his humanity claimed him, so he could lay next the cold body of Sakamichi and let his life extinguish. What was anything worth now?

But if Sakamichi could return, would Akira find him? Would he be the same? Would the sun be in him once again?

Akira reached out and touched the colorless skin of Sakamichi's face. There had been so much color in him, so much soul, and so filled with life.

Akira clenched his hand.

If he had an eternity to wait, so be it.

Time would pass, as it always did, and he would search, endlessly for the return of Sakamichi's soul. Time was nothing, but the Sun and Moon fighting for dominance after all. So, he would wait all the earth years necessary, and he would plan, he would fight for what, no, not what, but for who he loved.

For the next time Sakamichi graced the earth with his light, his sun, his beauty and grace, Akira would not let him go. Would never let him go.

And as he sat there, he understood, finally.

With zealous resolve, he set his place in the universe.

He was not a man nor was he a god.

He was something in between.

He didn't care if he was worth nothing at all.

And none of that mattered. He did not matter.

All that mattered was the moment, somewhere in the future, when on a glorious day, a burning sun, a bright soul, one small human would return.

And this time Akira would not let him go.

* * *

**Notations:**

Are you asking yourself, WTF did I just read? Good, because I'm the asking the question: WTF did I just write?

. I tried to be very vague because I didn't research enough to put details in. Japanese Mythology is so different from Greek and Roman….which is what I originally had in mind. In the end I twisted facts and gave up on the extensive research to just make a story. I hope you enjoyed despite me bastardizing proper Japanese Mythology.

I am so sorry…. please don't give up on me.

**Personal Note:**

I personally love writing alternate universes. They are really fun for me to write. I'm sorry if you don't like them, because that's all I got. Hey Yo.

* * *

Chapter 08: Chasm

Summary: In Which Midosuji want to let go and Onoda refuses.

Mood Music: Not Broken Anymore by Blue October


	8. Taste

Mood Music: Making Love on Mountain by The Woodlands

* * *

**Notations:** Inspired by the amount of fanart depicting Midousuji licking Onoda. There is so much of that.

**WARNING**: A little sultry… Just a tad. … tongue. Lots of

* * *

**Repletum**

Chapter 11: Taste

In which Midousuji appreciate one of his senses

* * *

_Let me drink from your lips; the sweet honey from your throat, and the taste of your eternal soul_

Everyday, Midousuji was finding out the perks of dating Onoda Sakamichi.

The little nerd was the sheer embodiment of everything Midousuji had thought was gross and pathetic. Yes, he was sweet and kind and lovely and literally everything that Midousuji thought was weak and disgusting.

And it was wonderful.

Sakamichi wiped his brow with a damp towel, sighing tiredly. "I was so close today! I still can't maximize speed in those sprints. I don't know how you can still keep all that reserve energy like that."

Midousuji reached over to pull the towel away, wiping his own face of the perspiration. It smelled like Sakamichi.

"You just are too busy clinging to me, you don't notice all the energy you're using. You don't have to stay right by my side the entire time, you idiot."

Sakamichi pulled his hand through his hair, water droplets flying. He smiled up at Midousuji, "But I love being by your side! I feel like I belong there!"

Midousuji growled, flicking the towel over his head to hide the shine of that smile, and hiding his own blush in the process. "Oh, shut up with that stuff. Save your energy. If you can take advantage during the inclines, you can focus on the sprints. You just try too hard."

Sakamichi grinned back, "I know you're probably right, but you look so wonderful when you're racing! I just can't help watching you. I think you're beautiful."

Only Sakamichi would think that his pedaling was -_ugh_\- beautiful. He knew he was monstrous when he rode, and took advantage of his oddities to manipulate other riders. God, what the hell was Sakamichi? He was an idiot and gross, especially gross.

But the high blush on his cheek bones showed how pleased Midousuji truly was. He turned around and went into their apartment, and Sakamichi trailed behind him.

"Hmmm, I really need to take a shower. I'm sweating all over. I can't believe it's so hot today! It was like an oven."

Midousuji gritted his teeth. He did not need to think about Sakamichi showering. He was tired and really wanted to eat and rest, but all of a sudden he looked over his shoulder to his lover.

He blinked up at him and cocked his head, "Yeah?"

"You wanna go first?" He asked, but his mind was not really there. He flicked out his tongue out like a snake, tasting the salt in the air.

Sakamichi frowned slightly as he thought, "You can go first if you want. I really feel icky though, so I really do need to take a shower and then possibly a warm bath."

Midousuji clenched his teeth at the thought of Sakamichi bathing. Ugh, what a gross thought, but he leaned in closer, "You do stink, Sakamichi. You should go first." It wasn't entirely true; Sakamichi did smell, but his aroma was of sweat, metal, hard pavement roads, sunlight, and something else distinctly him.

There was something missing though, and Midousuji let his tongue reach out to sample the air again.

Sakamichi stepped around him, going to their room, no doubt to get ready for the bath, and he would have made it there if Midousuji hadn't snaked out an arm and grabbed him by the waist, leering over him. "Wha-! Eh? Akira? What?"

Midousuji had found the missing scent and he leaned down to kiss him.

Sakamichi, as always, absolutely relented to him, eyes closing, and body becoming relaxed. It was a hard touch of mouth, and a brief pull of lower lip, but it was over as soon as it came and Midousuji pulled back. He sampled the air again, and yes, there it was, his rough scent on Sakamichi's lips.

"Akira? Wha- What was that for?" He said, as he fixed his slightly askew glasses, "I mean, I don't mind, but… that was out of nowhere."

Midousuji stepped away, "Don't act like I never do it." He replied, slightly offended by the surprise in the man's voice.

"But- you don't do that too often." Sakamichi followed him, close on his heels, "Like I said, I don't mind or anything, I just want to know… Why?" He leaned around him to catch Midousuji's eyes, and he looked coy, "So I can keep doing it, you know? I really like it when you kiss me, Akira-kun."

Midousuji felt his face heat up and he reached out with his hand and squished his lover's face between his long fingers, "Gross. That's so gross."

Sakamichi squirmed in his hold, his smile flashing at him, and Midousuji let him go. "I think you are so cute when you do." He reached out and light grazed his fingers along the thin material of Midousuji's purple jersey, "I really like it. "

Sakamichi said stupid things like this all the time, and had called him cute before, and Midousuji almost always gagged at being called the sweet affectionate compliment. He did not want to be cute. He wanted- no- he _was_, dominating, intimidating, and powerful.

Not cute.

Cute was for little sweet blushing climbers like Sakamichi.

"That is so stupid." He started, and Sakamichi's smile grew, "I am _not_ cute. I think you're very wrong." He bent down and smirked in Sakamichi's face, close enough to see his long thin eyelashes.

Sakamichi didn't retreat, and Midousuji hadn't expected him to, because after all these years, he had no doubt gotten used to Midousuji's invasive tendencies, "You are, Akira-kun! It makes makes me want to kiss you."

_Oh god, stop_...

Midousuji reached down and his hands grabbed onto Sakamichi's hips, and then his legs, pulling one up over his own hip, making Sakamichi lean back against the hallway wall, "AH! Akira-kun! Wha-"

Midousuji shut him up with a hard open mouth on his. He was not going to be cute this time. He kissed him roughly, tongue rushing in to travel into the small mouth. Sakamichi whimpered, clutching his jersey, eyes closing shut once again. His mouth was so soft and warm, as Midousuji explored, pulling away only to come back, teeth catching his lower lip and tugging. This would show him that kissing was not goddamn cute.

Sakamichi opened his eyes, clouded and heavy, breathing hard against him, "Aki-"

Midousuji pressed a hot eager mouth to the slope of his neck, wet and gross, licking up to an ear. Sakamichi shifted his hips, and he reached up with the other hand to touch Midousuji's black thin hair. Teeth suddenly bit down and he sucked hard, marking the skin, and pulling a low lusty moan from that soft mouth.

He hoisted Sakamichi up the wall, his light weight not really burdening Midousuji any, as he kissed under his ear, his tongue sweeping out to swirl around the lobe, eliciting a slight rugged wonderful gasp and fingers tightening their grip on Midousuji's jersey. His tongue swirled again, and this time he used his teeth to catch the flesh, tugging at it, and Sakamichi groaned, "Aki- _Wait_\- Akira..."

Midousuji loved unraveling the man, loved how his bright pure eyes turned into something lascivious and only for him, only on him.  
Sakamichi pursed his lips against his cheek, asking for a kiss and his leg tightened around a bony waist. Midousuji grabbed the strong thigh, bringing it up higher and leaned down and kissed him. He wanted to press his hand between Sakamichi's legs, and make him moan, see more of that pleading, utterly sexy side of Sakamichi.

Something rang in the room and the mist in Sakamichi's eyes cleared. He was still catching breath, as he spoke,"Tha-That's my alarm, I think. It's for-" He stiffened and then violently ripped himself out of Midousuji's grasp almost running to the living room, leaving Midousuji very lonely.

Midousuji glanced down at the problem in his pants, and the biking shorts that did nothing to hide the obvious boner. Well, someone had to take responsibility, and the living room was much more comfortable for what he had in mind.

Midousuji came into the living room, about to wrap his arm around Sakamichi's thin figure, but Sakamichi suddenly shrieked, and then literally jumped over the couch, looking for something. Midousuji hissed in surprise, and then shouted over Sakamichi's loud muttering, "What the hell! What- Sakamichi! What are you looking for?"

Sakamichi made a sound of triumph as he lifted the remote and plopped down excitedly on the coaching, turning on the TV as if they hadn't been making out very hotly not even five seconds ago. "It's on! It's on! And it's the finale! I'm glad I set an alarm!"

Midousuji should have known. There was only one thing that Sakamichi would stop everything for.

Fuckin' anime.

Now, he wasn't against it. This sort of entertainment had been a great help to him growing up, and he had learned a lot from his favorite cut throat, ambitious, strategic villains on how to use everything to one's advantage, but Sakamichi was so stupidly into this stuff.

Sometimes, Midousuji humored him, especially when the anime was something interesting, more aligned with his more sophisticated tastes. Other times, he was so annoyed with it that he would hide the remote on the top of the bookshelves, and would snicker cruelly as Sakamichi wrecked the apartment looking for it. Mostly, though, he merely sat there, with the mind numbing cutesy show playing in the background, and just watch the shifting expression on his always enthusiastic lover, memorizing the sight.

Unfortunately, he was not feeling that today.

What he was feeling was hot under the collar, and wanted to get back to their previous activities. "Sakamichi…" Midousuji said lowly, the sound curling out, and his eyes narrowed at the man, who didn't even flinch at his name being called.

Midousuji sighed and neatly stepped over the back of the couch and seated himself next to his unbelievably idiotic boyfriend. "Sakamichi, what do you think you're doing?"

Sakamichi turned to him for a second and then back to the TV which suddenly splashed vivid colors as the intro music for Sakamichi's favorite anime came blaring on, "OH! OH! I'm so excited!" He squirmed like he had bugs in his shorts, his smile wide and full on his face.

What a simplistic creature.

Midousuji huffed out impatiently, the tightness in his shorts fading to a low aching burn. They would have made it to the bedroom by now, and probably be doing better, more worthwhile things than watching a damn anime. His lips curled in disgust as he sat crossed legged on the couch. Half of him wanted to give in and take a shower, and leave his gross little lover watching his damn show, but another part of him, the more spiteful and carnal side of him wanted to run his hand and his mouth all over the exposed skin of Sakamichi's body and once again grab his attention.

Something happened on the screen, something exciting, he supposed, because Sakamichi grabbed his hand, gripping him tight with the drama unfolding on the TV.

Midousuji frowned at the contact, still miffed about being denied, but he turned his wrist and clutched the hand. It felt too nice to just ignore.

He watched as Sakamichi pitched forward, watching intently at the screen, and felt a fierce pang of jealousy spike through his veins. That was ridiculous, but nevertheless, it made him frown and eyes narrow. Sakamichi would usually watch him with those unwavering almost worshipful eyes. It was part of his personality, that dedicated stubborn, determined attitude. Sometimes, most of the time, it was such a glorious trait, and others, like right now, it was god damn annoying.

Midousuji pulled the hand up, leaned forward, and lightly kissed the hard bumps of his knuckles, waiting for Sakamichi's response.

Damn nerd didn't even bat an eye.

It suddenly became a challenge, a game. What would he have to do in order to get the man's attention? And how far did he want to go?

His lips pressed harder, and Sakamichi glanced over him momentarily, about to speak, but the protagonist started talking, and Sakamichi was pulled in again.

Midousuji's lips stayed on his skin, and a wet pink tongue slipped out slowly, sweeping over small hard knuckles. He could taste the tang of his skin, salt and sunshine. Sakamichi turned to him, pulling at his captured hand, "Akira-kun! What are you-?"

Midousuji grinned as his lover's eyes widened at the tongue flickering out to taste again. Sakamichi blushed red, but after a moment, he frowned, "You are not going to distract me! This week I get to hear Suna's backstory! I can't miss it! I thought you-"

Midousuji ignored him, leaning over to kiss him. It was stupid to pick watching anime over doing naughty things with him. Sakamichi was so stupid.

When he pulled away, those blue eyes were clouded and soft, and his face flushed. He was trying to frown at the leering man, but it was proving difficult. Sakamichi's eyes pinpointed back to the TV screen, and a commercial advertised on about the newest cell phones that they, apparently, absolutely just had to have. Midousuji brought his lips back to the hand in his, lightly kissing his knuckles again, and Sakamichi wrinkled his nose and scooted away, "Akira! I know what you're doing! It's not going to work! I really want to watch this!"

Midousuji pulled his legs up and wrapped them around Sakamichi's distancing figure, properly trapping the boy, "And _I_ want to do _other_ things. In the _bedroom_. You're watching it, aren't you? I'm just entertaining myself."

Midousuji pulled his long legs in, forcing Sakamichi close again, and the man pouted, "I-" He stared, eyes flickering to the screen, "I can't really focus when you're touching me like this."

Midousuji felt the damning smile fill his features, "_Oh_? Is it making you hot and bothered, _Saaa_kamichi?"

Sakamichi flushed again, and Midousuji loved the way his skin looked, red and warm like that. He especially liked when Sakamichi was red and warm and _under_ him… or on top. Either one was quite alright actually.

This damn TV shows was absolute trash for being the reason why Sakamichi wasn't paying attention to him at the moment.

"No! I mean- well, maybe, but that's what you're trying to do, right? You're trying to make me… um, _horny_."

Midousuji would never admit it, but he was always delighted when Sakamichi said perverted things. It always took him by surprise when Sakamichi would say naughty, dirty things during their nightly activities. There was something so hot about that cute innocent cupid's mouth opening and saying bad, sexy things, or better yet, _doing_ bad, sexy thing with it. Sakamichi was, surprisingly pretty straight forward with what he wanted and how he wanted it. And, he was always willing to try new things.

"_Maaaaaa_ybe," was Midousuji's unashamed reply.

"Akira!"

Midousuji was about to sweep in for another kiss to that adorable indignant look, but Sakamichi turned away at the sound of the theme music ringing out from the television, announcing the return of the anime show, "Oh! It's back."

Midousuji's eye twitched.

An anime was cockblocking him. What the hell...

But, this was certainly entertaining. Sakamichi fighting against him wasn't something new, but it was always fun to show the little climber who was boss. He placed his hand on Sakamichi's knee, tightening his hand over the bone, watching for a reaction. All he got was a slight frown, and even then he wasn't sure if it was for him or at the monologue being rattled on by the villain of the show.

Midousuji pulled the hand up again, kissing lightly at knuckles, before turning it over and kissing the soft palm, mouthing up to the rough callous of the fold of his fingers. Sakamichi pulled at his hand, but didn't do much else. Midousuji pouted, only slightly, and then snuck out his tongue along the curve where fingers fused with palm. There was a delightful reaction. A pant, and a flicker of blue eyes glancing at him, "Akira-kun, stop. I want to- ah!"

He twisted his tongue up and around his middle finger, and slid his hand up his thigh, feeling the built muscle under the thin biking shorts. They needed to shower, but tasting his skin like this, with nothing, but Sakamichi's essence tainting his skin was an exhilarating experience, raw and heady. Sakamichi was becoming red and hot, flushing down his neck, as Midousuji took the slim digit into his mouth, sliding his tongue along the joints and sucking. He definitely had Sakamichi's attention, staring at him wide eyed, and he bit his lip, "Ar-Are you really going to-"

Midousuji released his finger and smirked against his hand, "Keep watching your show, _Saa_kamichi. Don't pay attention to little old me."

Sakamichi frowned, "You are distracting me! Why are you_-oh_…"

The soft, almost yearning sound was made in response to Midousuji licking the sensitive, erotic skin of his wrist, and his eyes half lidded, his body leaning forward into the touch, and Midousuji felt so victorious. Who knew Sakamichi was so responsive to such a soft touch?

There was a loud bang from the TV, and Sakamichi's beautiful sultry look disappeared and he abruptly turned his head to the screen, focused once again.

God damn it, he was so close.

No matter. Sakamichi hadn't pulled his hand away, and Midousuji was nothing if he wasn't resilient.

He curled his long fingers, drawing almost too light patterns along the inner seam of Sakamichi's thin shorts, and his breath was labored. He was squirming away, but not far, because he was still trapped in Midousuji's limbs. He was colored beautifully, his eyes riveted on the screen, but his brow was furrowed, and he was constantly pulling against Midousuji's grasp. He was now purposely trying to ignore all of Midousuji's ministrations.

Midousuji didn't mind. He hunched over and brought his tongue up his inner arm, to the inside of his elbow, kissing lightly onto the skin.

Sakamichi was panting now, as he let his tongue swirl in the hollow of his elbow, his hand still drawing those deliberately light circles high on his thigh, "Aki-" Sakamichi said weakly, his blush becoming hotter, but he was still keeping his eyes on the TV. Midousuji guessed that he needed to proceed more aggressively. He pulled back his teeth and then bit down into the wonderfully soft flesh, not hard, but deep enough to make a bright mark when he pulled back. Midousuji felt heat pool in his groin, arousal making his mind muggy and hot waves of desire wash over him. He needed to get Sakamichi in the bedroom as soon as possible. Hell, he would totally be okay just going ahead here on the couch. Sakamichi was licking his lips, his little pink tongue peeking out, and Midousuji watched it like a predator as it went over his soft lips. He almost relented to the desperate want to pull Sakamichi over and play with that little sweet, coy tongue. Instead, his mouth drifted from the curve of Sakamichi's arm to his wrist again, his beautiful pearly whites still exposed and still raking over his pale skin.

Sakamichi stiffened as the teeth scraped down his arm, biting lightly at the deceivingly thin inner forearm. He tasted richer here, his flavor mixed with arousal. Oh yeah, he was definitely aroused. Sakamichi made a small whimper, and Midousuji grinned madly, and victorious. He knew what that sound meant, and he was right, because Sakamichi suddenly exclaimed;

"Fine! Fine! Akira-kun, okay, it's over! You win!"

Midousuji wanted to say that it was a win for both of them and tease him, but his pants were tight and he felt hot, and he just want to get it on. It was notably to consider that Sakamichi had indeed held out until the end of his show, judging from the end credit scrolling on the screen. So, he hadn't technically won. How he managed that was quite the mystery, but he didn't worry about that at the moment. He had other things on his mind.

He reached out and pulled Sakamichi close, before swinging his legs out and standing up. He picked him up, wrapping his arms around him, carrying him like a princess because if he waited for Sakamichi to actually move and walk, they would take forever. Sakamichi protested for about two seconds, squirming in his hold, and Midousuji merely squeezed him tight in order to stop him.

He had both hands in his lap covering himself, and Midousuji sneered at that. He couldn't hide his obvious eagerness for long. Midousuji made up his mind to absolutely torture the man, because of all this waiting he had to do. He was going to make Sakamichi yearn in the same way he had yearned. He was going to make him beg for it because in no one's right mind would a sane person pick watching TV over sex. Midousuji could say he was most certainly looking forward to it.

"Um... Akira-kun? "

Midousuji started with a quick pace to the bedroom, _finally_,and snapped back, as he looked down at him. "What?"

Sakamichi's blushing face was still there, but he blinked up at Midousuji, his mouth curving around a shy smile and despite all the good, nice, sexy things Sakamichi said or did with that mouth, he was and probably would always be especially partial to that expression, because he truly loved his smile the best.

"Um, thanks for being patient. You were really nice to wait." His eyelashes swept down and his blush grew, "I think you deserve something nice."

Midousuji felt his knees go weak. Goddamn it, Sakamichi was his absolute undoing. His thoughts on torturing the boy with a slow, _showing-who-is-the-boss_ lovemaking session was suddenly washed down the toilet, because all he wanted to do now was to ravish him. If he didn't know better, he would think that Sakamichi was doing it on_ purpose_.

But, of course, judging from the sweet blush on his face, and his grateful eyes, Sakamichi was just… _gross_ like that.

Midousuji wrinkled his nose down at him, "Gross."

He then threw Sakamichi onto the bed, grinning as he yelled out at being manhandled. He didn't have to be so gentle with him. Sakamichi was a tough little nerd. He sat up, cocking his head, and asked Midousuji what or rather how he wanted to do it today.

Midousuji let a wide, conniving grin fill his face at the question as he crawled onto the bed, approaching Sakamichi like a feline with a dark purpose.

"Hmmmmm, _Saaa_kamichi, I think I want to continue what I was doing in the living room."

Sakamichi shifted back, until his back hit the headboard of their large bed. "I'm gross still, Akira-kun! And besides, you...um…don't you think you licked me enough today?"

Midousuji grinned as he caged Sakamichi beneath his limbs. Yes, this was what he wanted; Sakamichi cute, hot, blushing, and under him. "I didn't get to all the places that I wanted to, _Saaaa_kamichi." He drawled out and glanced meaningfully down to his pants. Sakamichi squeaked, covered himself again, and that was so stupid, because this was not a new thing they did, not by a long shot. Oh, he was going to enjoy making the man writhe. His dark, very naughty musings were cut short by Sakamichi calling out his name.

"Akira-kun…"

Midousuji's eyes flicked up to meet his, and he paused because the tilt of Sakamichi's lips was so…

"I think that maybe today…" Sakamichi leaned forward, and those pretty _innocent_ bright eyes darkened with mischief and sensuality, and all of sudden, Midousuji was sure he had just lost at his own game.

"...I'll taste _you_."

And Midousuji decided that night that good things come to those who wait.

Yes, good things, indeed.

Notations:

I ran out of ideas.

I wonder if Wanatabe-sensei thought, when he gave Mido that long tongue,

'_hmmm, I hope this doesn't become some sort of Cannon fodder for smut in fanfiction_.'

I'm sorry, Wanatabe-sensei. I live in a trash can, and trash is all I can produce.

Personal Note:

I dont think I say thank you enough, so thank you for all the love. I didn't expect this to be liked at all. I didn't understand that there is others who are really into AUs also! I have gotten such nice emails, telling me that they love this collection of fictions, and making some request. I technically was only going to upload until the end of the year, but after reading some of the request, I must admit I want to continue! Also, I'll be expanding on some of the other Stories (Chapter 07 and Chapter 04) because I have been asked to, and well, I just love write. Be warned though that they won't be up anytime soon, as I have four other fic ready to to go! Stay tuned? Maybe? If you wanna?


	9. Poison

Mood Music: View of Silence by Joe Hisaishi

Notations: Ummmmmmmm, Feudal Japan, anyone?

WARNING: Angst, violence, gore (?), blood mention, lots of pining, out of characterness

* * *

**Repletum**

Chapter 11: Poison

In which man is a Victim of Fate

* * *

_Love cannot save you from your own fate .~Jim Morrison_

* * *

He was the very night as he crossed the sloping roof of the Lord's house. The pale skin around his eyes the only thing visible to the darkness.

He sneered at the so called guards moving like clockwork in the court below.

How simple it had been to invade the manor and climb the room where the Lord's son slept.

The night was cool, moon high in the sky, and the assassin moved carefully, jumping here and there to avoid detection, soundlessly. Gone was the clumsiness of his younger years; his long, strange limbs now a harnessed tool for his chosen trade.

There were wafting curtains in the arched window of the top most room, dim candlelight burning in the open air. The assassin's dark emotionless eyes swept across the room in an expert manner, making sure that only he and the victim were present.

He approached the bed, each footfall soft and measured, as he came upon the bed of the young lord. With precise experienced fingers, he pulled at the ornate knife strapped across his chest, and the blade, as sharp and as beautiful as always, shone so bright even in the dim fading candlelight.

He paused as he leaned over his target. The body was bundled up, like a child in golden woven sheets, and the assassin reached out and pulled at them, making sure that it was indeed the child that had been marked for his kill.

The figure didn't resist, and from the sheet was revealed a boy; young and beautiful, royalty in his blood from his high cheek bones and regal slope of his neck.

The assassin stretched out his blade, ready to slide it across the soft skin of the young lord's neck and spill that holy blood upon golden fabric, but he stopped, froze, when eyes opened and stared unblinking to the ceiling. The boy's eyes were blue, like the ocean at dawn, the sky in the purest morning. Midousuji leaned the blade down, stretching his face under his mask in a cruel wicked smile, but it quickly faded when he realized that the boy could not see him.

The boy was blind.

He frowned and pulled back his blade. It didn't matter if the boy was blind, but it triggered memories in him, and he withdrew and hunched down as the boy sat up, clutching the sheets under his thin clean fingers.

"Hello?" He whispered, a tremble in his voice, his speech impeccable as he spoke to air, "Is someone there?"

The assassin cocked his head and didn't move, merely shifting so he could watch the unseeing eyes with morbid fascination. The boy was a flower, carefully grown in the safety of this house, watered by his father, nourished by the endless servants constantly catering to his every whim.

"I-" The boy continued, and he turned his head to and fro, as if listening before he riveted unto where the assassin was crouched, and for a moment the assassin feared that he had made a mistake in his assumption, "I can hear you breathing."

The assassin wanted to laugh, and he stood, his height overshadowing the bed and the victim in it. He was surprised that the boy hadn't yet yelled out for help.

He flipped the blade in his hand, ready for the quick movement to slit a flawless throat, and the boy spoke.

"Are you here to kill me?"

The assassin paused, eyes narrowing, and he pressed the sharp edge of the blade to the boy's cheek, and slid it down. He watched as the boy took in a shuddering breath, and his blue eyes blinked, aimlessly searching the room.

"What do you think, little prince?" The assassin said, his voice as low as the quiet of the night.

The boy swallowed against the sheen of the knife, his voice also a quiet lull, "Will-Will it hurt?"

The assassin frowned, not liking the absence of terror in the boy's voice, the lack of surprise. Most of his marks were a screaming loud mess that he enjoyed silencing, but this boy seemed so calm. This pampered brat was not afraid, even if there was a slight tremor in his voice.

"Do you not fear death, young prince?" The assassin said, hissing as his blade dug deeper, not yet cutting, but straining against the skin.

The boy didn't move, only tightened his small fingers around the silk of his bed, "I am afraid, but I am also ready. I knew… I knew that one day you would come and kill me. I am sad for my father, and my friends, but… I want to help my people. This is how I can-"

"Silence." The assassin hushed him, and frowned. What sort of delusions was the boy going on about? "You want to die?"

He pulled his knife from his throat and crouched closer to hear the boy's words.

The boy swallowed hard, bringing up a hand to touch where the blade had pressed, "There was… There was a prophecy, when I was sick once long ago, a soothsayer came and told my father of my fate."

Midousuji narrowed his eyes at the story, "And what is your fate, little prince?"

The boy beamed, he smiled even as he spoke of such a grim topic, "The soothsayer only said it once, but I remember. The prophecy goes like so: _One who sees without sight, unclouded by the poison of-_"

"Stop… Gods. What sort of fool are you?" Midousuji rolled his eyes, interrupting the young lord rudely. He tucked his blade back into the sheath strapped to his chest, "Pft, a prophecy..."

For some reason, he suddenly didn't want to kill the boy, just to spite that happy morbid smile of his. "You think your death will be of any consequence?"

The boy lifted his blue blind eyes in the direction Midousuji's face, "If I can do something for my father and my people, I want to…"

"Even die? What have you? Some sort of hero's complex?"

The boy shook his head, "Oh no! I could never be a hero. I can not wield a sword, nor shoot an arrow, but that does not mean I do not love my country. I want to do something also."

Midousuji stared at the boy, but after a moment, he kneeled on the bed, and pulled out his blade again, and pressed the flat of it against the boy's throat, where the pulse was thick and fast.

"Such pretty words from a prince." He hissed near his ear, "But you don't know what death is if you wish for it. It's cold, and dark, and painful." He whispered, growling out his words to make the boy afraid. "So tell me. Do you really wish for me to cut that pretty neck of yours?"

The boy swallowed hard against his knife, "I am afraid, but… I believe. I truly believe that if this can help, and bring peace, I will be content with that."

Then he gripped his hands together, closed his eyes, and lifted his neck to the blade.

And Midousuji marveled. This boy was speaking the truth; he would die for his kingdom.

It disgusted him.

He pulled his blade back and retreated. He was not going to take the boy's life, not today, in light of his idiotic reasoning.

"Wait, are you-" The boy cried out, listlessly moving on the bed, apparently hearing his departure. "Why do you- Are you not going to-"

Midousuji ignored him and was almost out the window when the boy asked for his name.

Midousuji paused, and was surprised that he did. He spoke, his tongue moving before he finished thinking.

"Akira."

Then he bit his tongue, trying to punish it for speaking without his consent. He flipped out of the window, back into the cover of night.

* * *

Midousuji could think of nothing, but the bright eyes of his latest mark. He had failed last night in taking his life and had to make sure that none found out of it.

The boy was a constant thought in the back of his mind, buzzing like an incessant insect. He traveled in the morning to the pig farmer that had recruited him for the kill.

The man was wide eyed when he saw the narrowed eyes of the assassin, "Ah! You-You did it!? I haven't heard-"

Midousuji sneered under his mask and flipped onto the man's fence, keeping his pigs trapped, "You don't think that I am not capable of killing a mere boy, do you?"

The man shook his head, and stumbled towards the house, "No! Of course not! I have-I have your money..."

Midousuji cocked his head and nodded, "Good." He cooed and followed the man into the house. The man hunched over a dirty cot and Midousuji wrinkled his nose at the sight. He saw a flash of metal, and ducked as the man pulled out and swung a sword where the assassin had been only moments ago. Midousuji kicked out with one foot, knocking the man's bad posture over with ease, and the sword clattered to the ground, and he kicked it away. What was this simple minded pig farmer thinking? Kill an assassin using the element of surprise? What a fool!

The man scooted back against the dingy wall of his shack, "I have the money!" He pointed to the box, "Take it! It's all there! Just let me live!"

Oh, how his tune had changed. He pulled out his knife and enjoyed the expression of pure terror on the man's face. Now this was how his victims needed to look, not brave and beautiful like the boy from last night. Midousuji blinked, annoyed at thinking once again about the prince. The thought of him brought a question to his mind.

Midousuji hunched over the man, even as he smelled the pigs on him, "Why did you ask me to kill the young lord, pig?" He hissed and the blade twirled over and over in his hand. The man scooted back further, fear in his eyes.

How could it be that he and this disgusting vile man were both humans? What mockery.

The man shook his head, "I told you where your money is! Why are you still here!? I have nothing more!"

Midousuji grinned under his mask, "I only want to know."

"He deserves to die! The prophecy says that his death will bring peace and prosperity! But what does the Lord do!? He pampers him and keeps our blessing from us!" The man spat out, dirty saliva flying out of his mouth. "If the boy dies, then I would be celebrated as hero! A hero!"

The man was clearly insane and Midousuji knew he would not get any more use out of him. Hah, how foolish. As if the death of one simple boy would make any difference to anything.

Midousuji felt disappointed, and the man suddenly pushed him away, and tried to run for the door.

The assassin was quicker, and he sunk his blade into the fat of the man's back, striking up into the heart. The man fell to the ground without grace, like the way he lived most of his life. Midousuji simply removed his blade, wiped it with the dirty coat of the man before sliding back in its rightful place, and after, he left the still warm corpse without a second glance.

* * *

He did visit the boy again. The young lord was waiting, sitting in his bed, and he inclined his head when he heard the soft rasp of Midousuji's breath.

"Akira-dono?" He asked, and Midousuji's only response was to sit on the edge of the bed, touching the silk of the golden sheet under his hands.

The boy pulled back his sheets and crawled towards the assassin. Midousuji watched with fascination as he came closer to who would soon kill him. He didn't have to anymore. He had killed the man who marked him, so the contract was null and void, but a part of him wanted to.

The young lord's blood was most likely rich and sweet, and it would be a glorious sight to see the ever bright gold of his bed stained red.

But another part of him was so curious, so mystified by bright unseeing eyes, and the absolute preposterous idea that Midousuji would be doing him a favor by taking his life.

"Akira-dono… Will you kill me tonight?" The boy asked, as he kneeled on his bed with easy grace, with beauty taught to him from birth.

It didn't sound right coming from his mouth. It sounded vile and wrong that Midousuji flinched at it. "I will take your life when I deem it so, little prince." He replied, interlacing a mocking tone.

The boy only smiled, and the sight was jarring. The boy was beautiful, like a woman adored to dance for generals, his smile was shy and sweet, long dark hair tied back, and the slope of his neck drew Midousuji's eye. It reminded him of those women that the men of his town worshiped as they passed by, their lips red and faces painted. He had never found them alluring.

But he found this, this small, smiling bright eyed boy as beautiful as blood dripping from his blade.

"Akira-dono, why are you an assassin?" The boy asked, as if it was a normal, unobtrusive question and Midousuji was once again reminded at how strange all this is. He waited a moment, and then pulled his knife out of its sheath, a habit when uncomfortable.

"Just as you are a Lord's son, I was destined to be a monster."

The words came so easily, after hearing them so many times. Was that not what the men in his town called him, a child of demon? His mother had always suffered in his place. Her work with the blade was honored, but her union with a strange man, and the child come forth of that union, cursed her.

He could not be more than an assassin.

"Oh…" The boy started, "I do not know if I was destined to be the Lord's son. I think it was my father's kindness that did that." He leaned in closer, whispering, "This is a secret, but I believe you will not tell anyone."

Midousuji found the boy so odd. What sort of fool would tell an assassin any sort of secret?

"I have no royal blood in me. My father found me on the road one day. My mother died in childbirth and father thought I was cursed because I was born blind. They left me on the mountain. My father was passing that day, and he saw me. When he tried to return me to my true parent, he refused. So, the lord brought me here." The boy leaned away, his smile bright, happiness in every curve of his face, "Father told me that he was only going to keep me as a servant, but then he decided to call me son. Is that not amazing?!"

Midousuji wondered at what sort of child would the boy be if the Lord hadn't pitied him. Would he have traveled down the same path as Midousuji? It was also strange how the boy exuded such grace, such beauty, when only common blood ran through him.

"I am not good at anything, and I am blind, so I can never inherit the land, but my father loves me even so. So that is why I thought the prophecy... Well, I want to do something, too."

Midousuji clacked his teeth from behind his mask, "By dying? Haaaa! You are a fool for believing such things. All that superstition is only for fools."

The boy tightened his lips, but after a moment smiled again, "Akira-dono, you seem very wise. I have never met a man who has ever called me a fool."

Midousuji stared at the curve of his lip, finding something pure in the way his eyes lit up. There was so much emotion in the boy's eyes, hidden and deep, despite the lack of sight.

He felt something choke him, not curiosity or fascination, something from within, pulling at his soul, rushing through his veins.

He stood up quickly, away from the boy and his warmth and words. He didn't offer a farewell as he leapt out of the window and into the comfortable acquainted night.

* * *

The next day he donned traveler's clothes and made a stop at a shop for food and supplies, and the vendor was not happy to oblige him, "Eh? A traveler? Visiting the strangest town in the south?"

The spring heat was sweltering under his mask, now white and thick, but more in line to what far off travelers and sellswords wore. The crowds that gathered in the street only added to the heat, and Midousuji didn't know why.

He flipped a coin onto the wooden counter, and the man shifted his attitude suddenly, smiling and showing a yellowed grin, "What can I do you for, oh kind sir?"

"Rice." He murmured, and the man leaned down under his small table to handle a large sack of rice, "Any information you need, oh kind sir? 'Bout our town?"

Midousuji surveyed the crowd around him, and even though he knew the greedy merchant would want for his tidbits, Midousuji was curious, "Why the crowds?"

The man popped his head up, weighing the small sack of rice expertly, "The Lord and his son will travel to the north today, to our oldest enemies, the so called God of the Mountain."

Midousuji knew that the Lord of this state was in constant rivalry with the Lord of the Hanoe Kingdom. What an idiotic game. While samurai fought, and fell and died, the Lords gave false smiles over tea together.

"Our kind Lord hates all violence, but how can he not fight? He is attempting to bring peace using his son."

Bright blue eyes flashed through his mind, and he asked, very nonchalantly, "Is the son a great warrior?"

The man snorted, and Midousuji felt offended for some reason, "The boy might as well be a lass. There are some that believe he is, but the boy is blind. Can't do much, but dance. Like a hostess. Beautifully, I heard. It fascinates the Lords, and their sons, his smile charming even the most serious of men."

Midousuji frowned even harder, "What is the boy's name?"

"Lord Sakamichi. He is a sweet child by all account, but he isn't a fearsome leader we can depend on." The man sighed and handed over the sack of grains.

_Sakamichi_.

It's appropriate, judging from the story that the boy had told him last night.

_Sakamichi_.

He tossed another coin at the man, and hung the sack on his belt. He heard the clip clop of horses coming and he hid back into the shadows of the buildings around him as an open carriage brought two ornately dressing individuals down the street.

People were throwing flowers, and adulations, but Midousuji's eyes riveted on the small, lavishly robed boy.

_Sakamichi._

He looked like the rising sun itself, smiling at the crowd that he could not see, staring ahead to the road.

He looked beautiful and untouchable, and Midousuji felt something fierce and strong fill his vein. Something screamed in him, something that wanted to follow the boy to wherever he deemed, and kiss the ends of his robes.

It felt like...worship in his blood.

Midousuji pulled his eyes away and covered his face with his hands, physically sick at his reaction. How disgusting. How putrid.

Worship!? None deserved worship, especially a sniveling child like that, whose life Midousuji had played with on more than one occasion. He worshiped no one.

He fled through the narrow alleys of the buildings and kept going until he couldn't hear the roar of the crowd.

Yet, somehow he felt the impossible gaze of blue blind eyes on him, and on his tongue was a name as sweet as honey.

_Sakamichi._

* * *

There was something self destructive about Midousuji's new found addiction. Sakamichi truly was light, bright and filling. He seemed to see straight through him, his sight going past all the oddness of his being. It was terrifying that Sakamichi could see his ugly scarred soul and not care what a monster he was.

He visited, always with the pretense of killing him, but more and more that was looking unlikely.

It was becoming ritual, habit, one that the prince did not mind at all.

"You are always so quiet, Akira-dono," He said one night, sitting like a blooming flower in his bed, smile wide as he heard the footsteps of his nightly companion, "I can barely hear you."

It was becoming harder and harder to remember that one day he was going to kill the boy.

"Of course, little foolish prince. Have you ever heard of a loud assassin?"

Sakamichi shook his head, "No...My father does not want me to hear of those sorts of stories. I scare easily and have nightmares as a result."

Midousuji scoffed, "As if not knowing of the dangers of the world will make them go away."

Sakamichi frowned, "I have always loved hearing about stories of heroes and their lovers, though. The thought of love just... It makes me so happy. The fables been told to me have taught me that love is the most wonderful and powerful thing in the world."

Midousuji laughed quietly into his mask, "HA? Love? That is the most foolish thing I have ever heard. Love, pah... Love is nothing more than a hindrance. It's a superstition, a fable, to make we men feel worth something."

Sakamichi's smile faded, and Midousuji tried to ignore the disappointment he felt when he saw that.

"Maybe you are right, Akira-dono, but if I believe in it, I think perhaps, one day, I will find it, too. I want to find love. Do you not want to?"

And though the boy was blind, his eyes shone like stars in the dim light of a lit candle, and the encroaching darkness gave way to him. Midousuji suddenly felt hot, like the times when he would stray too close to his mother's working blacksmith pit, and felt dizzy from the heat washing over him.

Love? What was love? And did he ever want to find it?

He had loved his mother, before the sickness took away her sight, and then her life. That had been love...Could there be more than that?

Midousuji pulled out his blade, the one his mother had gifted him before she passed, sharp as the day it was made. He stared at the intricate hilt and the shine of the blade.

He missed his mother.

He had been taken to the palace as a youth to learn the ways of a warrior, and make his mother proud, but as his lessons grew long, and thoughts of power and wealth filled his mind, he failed in seeing her weakening state.

And now he was alone.

"Akira-dono? Are you well? You never answered-" A small hand touched him and Midousuji stiffened at the contact, bringing his blade up to protect himself. The blade met resistance as it slid across the boy's palm, leaving a trail of blood behind.

The boy sat back holding his hand in shock, a little river of blood running from the cut down his arm, "Ah! I-"

Midousuji breathed in hard. He hadn't meant-He didn't want to hurt the boy and regretted that this had happened. He ripped off his sleeve and quickly wrapped up the injured hand tightly, closing the wound. It was not deep, and would heal quickly, but Midousuji felt disgusted with himself. And that was foolish, because he was going to kill the boy someday, wasn't he?

Sakamichi had tears in his eyes and the sight was driving Midousuji insane.

"I hadn't meant to- I didn't mean-" Midousuji stuttered, shame and regret making his tongue heavy in his mouth.

"Akira-dono, please, do not concern yourself. I am fine. I should.. I should be more careful."

He pulled his hand to himself, and Midousuji saw the drops of red on the golden sheets. Before, he had wanted to see blood spilled on the rich color, but now, the thought of cutting the boy's elegant throat, or sinking his blade into his heart, filled Midousuji with remorse, made him want to howl at the injustice.

Midousuji stepped back until he leaned against the window, ready to leave, because he felt wrong and dirty and evil.

"Akira-dono? Have you left?" Sakamichi asked, hand still protectively pressed to his chest. He shifted his head around, as if trying to listen, and Midousuji held his breath to avoid detection.

After a long moment, Sakamichi laid back in his bed, covering his figure again. Midousuji didn't move, standing there until he could hear the soft rasp of Sakamichi's breath.

He then crept closer, until he was hovering over the boy. Sakamichi was so beautiful; whether asleep or awake, he shone so brightly.

Midousuji stared at him.

He had to decide. He should kill the boy now, do away with him, but his body would not move and his mind screamed at the thought.

It was too late to make any sort of decision.

He would never kill the boy.

Sakamichi had already infected him, like poison, rushing through his blood, and slowly killing him.

And for some reason, the thought didn't scare him as it should. He hovered over the boy, and watched him sleep, feeling heat surge through him at every intake of breath, at every flutter of eyelash.

_Poison_.

* * *

No matter how he reasoned, his logical mind always lost to his heart's desire.

So, no matter how many reasons there were to not visit Sakamichi any longer, they always faded at the sight of the boy.

Sakamichi was unlike any royal, no, unlike any _person_ he had ever met. He was foolish and naive. He knew nothing of the true wicked world he lived in, so protected in his high tower was he.

Midousuji would have hated this innocence in anyone else, but with Sakamichi, with his rich smile and blue sightless eyes, he couldn't feel more than a fierce protective desire to keep him innocent like this. Keep the world at bay so Sakamichi could stay foolish and ignorant.

Every night, Sakamichi would grow closer, feeding the fire in his heart. Nights turned to months, and Midousuji realized in a sudden thought, as he told the story of his escape from a camp of bandits, that he hadn't killed in a long time.

Sakamichi would touch him. At first, it was only the brush of fingers, and Midousuji would watch his hand edge closer, seeing the scar that formed there from his carelessness.

"Akira-dono, you feel like the wind."

Midousuji laughed at him, "Foolish prince, one can not feel like the wind…" But the compliment filled something, and made his hands tingle.

"Do not laugh! I only meant in a poetic sense! I do not how to describe it!" He exclaimed, and then lowered his voice sheepishly, "You seem…You are so knowing and free." He quickly pressed a hand to his heart, "Do not misunderstand, I do not feel trapped here. I just-" He blinked those beautiful eyes of his, "I feel like you are a dream. Sometimes, I think you are just a dream. That is why I want to touch you. To make sure you are true and real."

Midousuji clenched his teeth together, staring at his small wonderful face, aglow with shyness.

"I don't mind, but did you forget, young lord, I am an assassin. Is it wise to come so close?"

Sakamichi was already crawling to him, small carefully kept hands, searching for his. Apparently, he didn't.

Sakamichi was warm, like the small fire that Midousuji lit to keep himself when out in the forest. His fingers were soft and neat as they glided over the bony ridges of his hands. Midousuji chuckled at how entirely too small were the young lord's hands, and how they were easily engulfed by his large palm and thin spidery fingers.

How could he ever feel like the wind when he was sharp and hard?

"You are warm, Akira-dono, and strong." Light fingertips traced the callouses of his palm. Midousuji only watched him, blood pounding in his ears, gritting his teeth at the sensations sweeping through him at Sakamichi's ministrations. "I am glad you came, Akira-dono. I am so glad to have met you." He said, with a smile so true and bright. He was glad to have met a vile, depraved assassin.

It was poison, in his veins, injected into him at every touch of Sakamichi's fingers, infecting him with light and hope of a new life. And though Midousuji knew, he knew that poison would one day take his heart and his life, he kept taking it.

And for the first time in a long time, Midousuji didn't care.

He continued to visit his prince, in his high tower, telling stories of his adventures and of his tragedies, soaking up Sakamichi's enthusiasm like water on his parched tongue, watching his bright eyes stare aimlessly in the room, but still so alive.

It was a taste of something so wonderful.

And Midousuji never wanted it to end.

"My father spoke to me today. He told me that we might be forced to live somewhere else for a time."

Midousuji crouched down, flipping his ornate blade in his hands without looking.

"Where?"

He felt a slight worry rise in his chest at the thought of their lovely nights together coming to a close.

Sakamichi smiled, that damning sun filled smile, "Will you follow me there as well, Akira-dono?"

Midousuji jumped onto the bed, hovering over the small boy sitting there. The blade of his dagger shining in the

in the moonlight. "I DO have a contract to fulfill, remember?" It had been months since he had mentioned it, and just the reminder made Midousuji feel sick. It was obvious now that he would never, could never hurt the boy in any way. He had forgotten. He was a wicked, cruel assassin who was responsible for the lives of many.

How could he have forgotten that?

"Ah, yes." Sakamichi replied, still smiling, even in light of the mention that his friend, who he let lay in his bed and touched without fear, was a merciless killer, "Well, I do not know. There is unrest in the north and rumors of war from across the sea. My father wishes for me to visit the ocean before we head to our refuge. I wished it of him. I want to feel it. I hear that the sea is as beautiful as it is frightening." Midousuji shrugged and then remembered that Sakamichi couldn't see the action, so he flopped back on the bed, across Sakamichi's legs that were hidden under his sheets. "It's alright, I suppose. If you like water."

Sakamichi giggled and reached out, his soft hand searching for Midousuji. Midousuji let him, and softly breathed as the warm fingers touched his dark garments of his shirt. Even through the heavy silk, he could feel his heat, "I wish for you to join me. By the ocean, Akira-dono."

"No." Midousuji said, even though he was thinking of going, of hiding in the shadows and watching the boy with the ocean as his frame.

Sakamichi laughed, and it was like joy turned into sound. "I thought you would say that. What could do to convince you?"

The boy looked so innocent, so angelic, yet the words made Midousuji turn red with implication. "What are you good at?"

Sakamichi sighed, "Nothing, really. My father says my voice is soothing, but my father is too kind to me and I can not sing now, with the guards so close. I suppose there is nothing I can do convince you to join me."

Midousuji bit his tongue. He wanted to hear the young lord sing, but perhaps another time. He remembered the man that had prattled on in the market months ago, and asked;

"You say you are good for nothing, yet I hear you charm even gruff men with your dancing."

That was not the only thing that charmed men, because the red that splashed across the boy's face is more alluring than gold.

"I can never tell if my dancing is of any worth or beauty for I can not judge the faces of my audience."

Midousuji grinned wide, "Well, entertain me, little prince, and I will let you know if you've been lied to."

Sakamichi's blush blossomed brighter, and he shook his head, "But, Akira-dono! I am not dressed to dance. It will not be right to-"

"Are you making excuses, little prince?"

Sakamichi pouted, like a petulant child, losing only for a moment the regal air, and Midousuji thought it was wonderful, "I am not, Akira-dono." He pulled his legs from under Midousuji and moved to the edge of the bed, and stood, untying a sash and slipping out of the topmost layer of his sleeping clothes.

Midousuji's breath quickened as he saw a sudden flash of skin from under a collar, and he stared, mouth dry as the heavy cloth dropped to the ground. There was nothing erotic in the action, but Midousuji felt his heart thud in his chest and in anticipation, he leaned up on the bed, his eyes fixed on the boy as he walked a few feet to the clear space in the room, void of any obstacles that might hinder him. His under robe was white, as pale as the moon, and Sakamichi reached back, untied his hair, and shook his head forward. A cascade of black fell over the white material of his robe.

"There is no music, and therefore it will feel strange, but please be honest, Akira-dono."

Midousuji was abruptly pulled out of his daze at his name being called, coming back with a shuddering gasp, not realizing that he had forgotten how to breath at the sight of Sakamichi looking so breathtaking.

He lifted his hand and the robe sleeves fell, giving only a slight show, a brief reveal of the expanse of the skin of his wrist and the sight made Midousuji bite his tongue.

He understood why men found dancing so entertaining, why they would pay such unbelievable amounts of money to see a woman dance. He would've given his very soul to see the sliver of skin on Sakamichi's arm again.

Then Sakamichi moved, he bowed, and his hands curved with such grace and beauty that Midousuji felt as if time had stopped.

And Sakamichi _danced_ for him.

Midousuji felt a burning in him, the heat of want and desire, all fueled by a fierce zealous love.

Every arc of a leg, every coy twist of an arm, and every warm smile made Midousuji want to leap out of his skin and touch, breath, rejoice that there was someone so beautiful, so alive, and here with him. He never thought that the human body could look so beautiful, so heavenly.

All he had ever done in his life was destroy and rip apart and fest on pain of other humans.

But this, this was holy, and he did not deserve such a sight.

When Sakamichi finished, he kneeled and Midousuji wanted to shout at the travesty of the lord kneeling before him.

"Was I well?" Sakamichi said to a lovesick thunderstruck assassin. "Will you come with me?"

He couldn't speak, for his heart was in his throat and all he wanted to do was touch the silk of his hair, and feel his warmth against his face.

"Akira-dono?" Sakamichi reached out on all fours searching for him, "Akira-dono… Did you leave? Did I bore you?"

Midousuji wanted to laugh at that, but he was still struck to the bone, and Sakamichi reached him, touching his robes, "Ah… You are still here. Why did you not speak? Are you trying to find a way not to offend me? Do not worry for my account, I trust you always tell me the truth."

Midousuji still doesn't speak, the burning in his veins causing him to catch the small wrist with his hand, and then he reached for the other, trapping his arms and he leaned down and kissed the skin there, touching him with the cloth on his face. He was so warm, so soft. Midousuji pulled down his mask and pressed his lips to the wrist this time. Contact felt like heaven, blessed and holy. Sakamichi gasped and stilled under his lips, and he lifted his hand into the touch, "Aki-Akira-dono…"

Midousuji lifted his eyes to see the surprise turn into a joyous smile as Midousuji pressed a kiss against his skin again, to the scar that marred his perfect skin.

"Akira-dono, do you know of love? My father says that love rises from the most unexpected places, like when he found me on the roadside. He had never been inclined to care much for children."

Midousuji frowned, and he stood up, pulling Sakamichi unto the bed, and covering his shoulders with the discarded robe on the floor. After, he kneeled once again at his feet, and reached out to capture his wrists again. He still didn't speak, opting to only listen to the quiet hush of Sakamichi's voice.

"I feel different… since the moment you came into my life, Akira-dono." The hands in his stretched out hand hesitantly traveled up the arm, the wide face of their owner.

"I have always wanted to die in order to fulfill the prophecy once told about me, but…"

Small impossibly soft hands traced his cheekbones, his sharp nose, his thin lips before cupping his chin and pulling him forward. Midousuji's breath was coming fast, his heart wanted to fly out of his chest as Sakamichi pressed his forehead to his, and his unseeing eyes were so deep, so uncanny from this distance, staring straight through Midousuji's soul and his vile actions of the past. And yet, and yet, he did not care.

"But… you make me want to live...You make me want to be selfish and wish for death to come a long, long time from now, when I am old and alone. I want to live! I want to hear your breath and feel your presence every day of my life. Is it wrong to not want to die?"

There were slight tears in the corners of those deep blues and Midousuji wiped them away. He wanted to lean forward and kiss the soft lips near his, like the countless couples he had seen in the cover of the night. He wanted to touch him and embrace him, and kiss him; a physical reaction to the heat coursing under his skin, the buzzing in his toes, through his chest all the way to his fingertips still curled around Sakamichi's wrist.

"I won't let anyone kill you. You will not die." He said, with every fiber in his being ringing the same declaration, because if anyone deserved to go on living, untarnished and beautiful and forever, it was the young lord.

And as much as he wants to crush the boy against him and surround himself in his heat, he also felt sick and unworthy. He was not worthy of anything so untouched and wonderful. He was a dark shadow in a bright room, a marr in an otherwise perfect tapestry, poison in a bouquet of flowers. He shouldn't, couldn't reach up and touch anymore than this. His place was kneeled before him, in humble adoration, and the loyalty struck him all the way to the bone. Right here, right now, he pledged to Sakamichi, no matter where he went on from here, Midousuji would follow and guard his life with his own.

Sakamichi didn't know any of Midousuji's thoughts, and he was the one that pressed himself in, winding thin arms around his neck and falling into the assassin's lap, burying his small face into the hollow of his neck, and even as his thoughts flew apart, Midousuji wrapped his arms around the boy clinging to him.

"I feel so warm, Akira-dono, like my heart is going to beat out of my chest, and I just want you to hold me like this forever." He pressed in closer, his ornate robe falling away until Midousuji held him in the thin white silk, and felt the brush of hair against his cheek.

"Is this love, Akira-dono? I want to live forever, like this so warm and happy, in another's embrace."

Midousuji clenched his teeth together at the words, reeling from the explosions of fire in his chest, like the sound of metal against metal as his mother worked over the fire. It was that heat that suffocated him now. He didn't know what love was, but this… this was something he wanted, forever. Something he needed now that he had tasted it.

Midousuji pressed his lips against the smooth black hair at his temple, to his cheek, and Sakamichi pulled back. "I love you, Akira-dono. I do! I love you…"

Words had never been a point of any importance for Midousuji and he had learned to ignore them since the evil jests of the men of his village, but these words shattered something inside him, pulled his soul out of him with a gasp, as if he had been underwater all this time, and just now learned how to breath, to live.

It was love that burned between them and it was fate that brought them together.

And sitting on the floor, wrapped up in each other, they made plans for the future.

* * *

He only meant to return home for supplies, but the general guard caught him on his way out. Midousuji thought for a moment if he should escape, but he knew that the Lord over his town only wanted to plead with him again.

And he was right in his assumption.

Lord Ishigaki smiled at him, kind and fatherly, even if they were not far in age.

"Akira-san, you have been gone for quite some time."

Midousuji grinned beneath his mask, "Not long enough if you're still regent."

The crowd surrounding them murmured in dissatisfaction, but the Lord only raised a hand to silence them. "Have you thought about my proposal, Akira-san?"

Midousuji crouched down in boredom and he responded hastily, "I have, Lord, and my answer remains the same. I will not take command."

The Lord sighed, weary and tired. "Your mother was blessed by the very emperor for the blades she smithed, and yet you do not wish to carry on the blessing? You have always been the type of man that I knew could protect us," He emphasized his new words, "As Shogun."

Midousuji didn't like the mention of his mother or the emperor's seal that he kept within his robes. He might as well tell them of his plans now. He had always hated this city and what it did to his mother and him before this Lord took rule. "No. I am leaving your estate and I am not returning."

Yamaguchi, the soft spoken advisor, stepped forward, "Midousuji-san, the Lord needs you in this time of battle." The lines of his face were sharp and tense. Midousuji merely growled back, "I am not returning. Never again. "

The Lord waved a hand, "Fate had brought you to us, Akira-san, and I believe that fate will bring you back."

Midousuji sneered. Fate had given him something more beautiful, something greater than the position of shogun. The Lord was still giving him that pompous, knowing gaze when a courier came in and went to the Lord's second in command, Nobuyuki. Midousuji watched as the warrior gasped and quickly whispered in the Lord's ear.

The Lord looked shocked and alarmed, and he hastily stood up, "Gather the troops, Nobuyuki."

Midousuji knew he shouldn't ask, but he did so anyways, "Trouble, Lord?"

The Lord stopped and looked at him, before speaking, "We have just received a message from the emperor. An army is headed here. Mongols. They should arrive in three days time. It is time for war, Akira."

Midousuji was suddenly so worried. Not of war or the implication that the Mongol army approaching meant, but where they would land and where they would soon be attacking.

"Where!? Where will they land?"

The Lord passed him by, speaking rapidly to the second and his advisor, and Midousuji jumped ahead of them, stopping their progress, "Which shore will they use to land!?" He asked, not hiding the panic in his voice, almost threatening, but the Lord wasn't afraid of him. The Second speaks, "They will most likely set anchor in the Harbor of the Kingdom of So."

Sohan's land, where Sakamichi was traveling to, and suddenly his stomach felt sick and heavy. The Lord Makishima's kingdom was far from the Emperor City, and would not get the warning in time to save the convoy.

"Lord…" Midousuji started, his mind racing, "If you help the Kingdom of So, I will be your general."

It was a sacrifice, but if it meant Sakamichi's salvation...

The Lord blinked, frowning, "What do you care of the Lord Makishima?"

Midousuji bit back a growl, trying to calm his nerves, "Just know that this is my condition. I will travel there now and warn them." The Lord looked confused, but after a calculating moment, he nodded. "Very well. We will negotiate with So after your return."

Midousuji turned hastily and went straight to the royal stables, flashing his new position to the lad there and took a horse at full speed.

His thoughts raced. Sakamichi only left a day or so ago for the ocean.

The Lord would not get the message of warning for days, and by then, the shores of Sohan will be stained red. Midousuji would not let Sakamichi's blood be among them.

* * *

He rode his horse to exhaustion and made the two day journey in a mere night.

The Makishima castle was quiet when Midousuji thundered in, shouting out for the Daimyo. The guards warned him, samurai drawing their swords to attack the intruder. "I have a message of great urgency for the Lord. It is about his son!"

That made the samurais pause and a hulking man in his sleeping clothes called out to a servant. "Wake the Lord. He will want to hear this."

Then he turned to Midousuji still on his horse and the assassin felt like the man was too much like a war bear. "And who are you, messenger? From where do you hail?"

Midousuji narrowed his eyes in response, "I speak to the Lord only."

It didn't take long for the Lord to arrive and his face was tight as he entered the court where they were waiting for him. "What news of my son do you bring? What has happened?"

"I come from the Ishigaki Palace-"

"An enemy!" Someone shouted and the sound of swords clanged through the court. Lord Makishima raised a hand and the court stilled, "And why is an enemy castle heeding news of my son?"

Midousuji kept his head low, "The emperor has received news of a Mongol invasion party coming from the West. They will anchor on your shore, the beaches of Sohan. The very same beaches where your son travels."

The Lord's eyes widened and he called out to his advisor. Kinjou, Midousuji assumed from Sakamichi's too detailed descriptions, came briskly into the room, "My Lord?"

"Where is my son now? Where should he be?"

"His company should have arrived in Sohan yester-night."

He whirled around to Midousuji, "And the Mongols are attacking Sohan in three days time!?"

Panic suddenly lit the court as Midousuji nodded in agreement.

"The gods punished us!" The Lord cried out and he sank to the floor. His assistants rushed forward and helped him gather himself. The shogun stepped forward, the large beast of a man, "My Lord, you need not worry. General Teshima is with him. He would rather die than allow the young master to perish."

Lord Makishima stood and slapped away his helper, his eyes dangerously dark, "General, gather my horse. I am leaving to Sohan."

The court began murmuring, and the lord yelled out so fiercely that even Midousuji flinched, "SILENCE! I will not stay here while my only son is in peril. At this moment, I am not a lord, I am a father. Prepare for war, my general. Send a courier to Hanoe, to Lord Toudou. Perhaps he will set aside his petty rivalry and come to our aid."

The court scurried to obey and Midousuji watched with hope. They can surely make it. The Makishima estate was strong, not overshadowed by the Kings of the North or the Emperor's hand.

"Messenger, speak with me." Midousuji bowed his head, and came closer to the lord, "My Lord?"

"Only my selected court knew of Sakamichi's journey to the ocean. Why does a messenger from the Ishigaki castle know this?"

Midousuji's eyes widened and he looked up meeting the Lord's gaze. His eyes were sharp and glittering blue, like the sheen of a blade before it plunges into flesh. The Lord looked so angry, but he turned his face away and spoke, "I am grateful for your quick action, but do not think you will not be punished for associating with my son."

"I am the new appointed shogun of Sakura Kingdom, and I pledge loyalty and peace between us."

The Lord blinked in surprise, "Shogun? And why is my son-" He frowned, blinked, and then looked grim. He waved a hand to a warrior, blonde hair held back and brown sharp eyes, who came up quickly. "My Lord?"

"Give this man armor and a horse. Let all know he is shogun to our new ally, and fight alongside him as your very brother."

The blonde man bowed and waited for Midousuji to follow.

"Your name, Shogun?" Lord Makishima asked, voice low.

"Akira. Midousuji Akira."

The Lord stood straight, "Your alliance to my son is honorable. Save him, Akira-dono."

And Midousuji swore that he would.

* * *

And though they road with fury, Fate, in her petty waning ways, was not on their side.

The Sohan forest leading to the clean shores of the ocean was filled with fighting. Tadokoro, the So Kingdom's Shogun raced into battle, savagery in every line of his face as his troops clashed sword with the shouting large men invading.

The air was tinged red with blood, the trees huddled as the men fought around them.

Midousuji cut down a rushing swordmen, sliding his thin blade through his chest.

Sakamichi should still be in the carriage, safe and shielded. But the invasion party is coming in droves, and the So Kingdom's army was starting to be pushed back. The addition of a war hungry bear that roared out across the forest made some of the Mongols shrink back in horror as the large man brandished his sword with deadly skill.

Surely, now all would be well.

Midousuji rode further into the forest, disregarding the fallen bodies of warriors, and the gleaming carriage came into view.

There was no one around it and that was a warning. Midousuji jumped off his horse, and ripped open the door of the carriage, expecting to see his wonderful bright eyed boy huddled there.

The carriage was empty.

And much to his distress, the side of it was completely destroyed, with slashes of swords and buried broken arrows.

Midousuji stepped back and quickly scanned the area. There was screaming and clanging of metal at the beach, and Midousuji ran towards it. The invaders were streaming onto the shores now, and when Midousuji cleared to the wide open white sands of the shore, his heart trembled in fear. In the ocean, anchored were massive ships, looming over the sea's surface, much like the clouds that hung in the sky, pitch black and threatening.

The gods were angry.

Another roar brought Midousuji out of his motionless state, and he glanced over to a few men staving off a dozen Mongols. He recognized the ornamental wear of a second general as he cut cleanly through an enemy's arm. From the half circle that the So Kingdom's warriors were forming, it was obvious they were protecting something.

It had to be Sakamichi.

Midousuji rushed over, sword in hand, to a rock formation where they might of put him. At least he would have gotten there, if not for a dark haired man with wilderness in his eyes had not stopped him. It was the second general, and he was wounded, cut and bloodied, but he held the sword and kept Midousuji at bay.

Midousuji was about to push him aside, cut him aside, eyes focused on the rocks where Sakamichi might be, when the general stood straight. "Ally…" He breathed, relief in his voice, "How many did you bring!? Is Lieutenant Hajime with you!?" He asked desperately.

Midousuji didn't have time for his questions, seeing how he recognized his own kingdom's garb, "The Prince-"

The general's face immediately tightened, and his sword fell. Those were not good signs at all.

"The Young Lord… We were ambushed and they attacked the Lord first, striking him with an arrow. He is alive, but-"

Midosuji hissed and rushed past him to where Sakamichi was laying, wounded, hurt, afraid, and alone.

Sakamichi's golden robes were strewn about, and the dark brooding storm clouds did nothing to cover the light from him. He looked like a precious delicate flower trampled into the unworthy ground. Midousuji sank next to him, gasping as if drowning, "Sa-Sakamichi…"

It was the first time he had said the young lord's name and even in this moment, it sounded so wonderful.

The boy shifted, "A-Akira! You-You came! You found me! I-I was afraid that… that I would never hear you again!" He gasped suddenly and his face was pale, blind eyes crying.

"W-Where-Where-?" Midousuji couldn't even ask, couldn't speak. Fear gripped his heart and made every bone in his being shake with despair.

Why hadn't he been here? Why had he left Sakamichi alone!? He should have never left his side, never been too far to not be able touch, to protect.

"Sakamichi…" He breathed out, whispering, pleading, "Where are you hurt?"

Sakamichi took in deep breaths and his tears fell more rapidly, "I can not show you… I can not move." He looked so distressed, and Midousuji bit down on his lip until it bled as pain exploded in his chest, raw and untamable. He reached out and pulled the robes off the young boy, feeling vile as he exposed the flawless pale skin to the bloodlust in the air.

He pushed his hand under the thin silk underrobe, praying to any god that Sakamichi was fine, that the general had made a mistake, that Sakamichi was only feeling pain from terror.

But, it was not so. It couldn't be, with Sakamichi crying in agony and how white his face looked, how clammy his skin was, absent of his glorious color, missing was his warmth, and his light was fading.

Midousuji felt along his side, wet and warm, slick liquid under his fingers, and when he pulled out his hand, the red ran down his palm, dripping onto the golden robes.

How many times had he said that he would draw blood from the boy, take his final breath, steal away his life, for a handful of gold? He covered his eyes with his bloodied hand, not wanting to acknowledge that Sakamichi was hurt, was injured gravely, that he might…

No, he could not die. They had just met, just learned of love and the joy, the fullness of life. Fate could not be so cruel, so wicked to tear them apart so soon.

He gathered Sakamichi in his arms, "You will be fine, we have a healer. He will cure you. You will be fine, my prince. You will live, Sakamichi."

_One who sees without sight_

Sakamichi trembled as he lifted his hands to touch the face of the distraught assassin. "Akira, I-" He gasps, and shook, his small, fragile figure cold even as Midousuji held him close. "Akira- I never sang for you…"

_Unclouded by the poison of men_

"Don't speak, you-you fool! Save your breath. You can sing for me when you are well. Hush now." And Midousuji felt Sakamichi smile against him, pressed into his neck, desperately trying to wish away the horror of the truth.

_Union brought from spilled blood_

"I might- I may not be- I may not be able to… Akira...I want to sing for you…" Midousuji felt his eyes fill with water, and he pulled Sakamichi in closer, the shouting and clashing of swords around them. What could he do? Where was the healer? Could he risk running out and trying to flee to the nearest town? How much time did Sakamichi have?"

"Akira…" Sakamichi whispered, and Midousuji brought their foreheads together, in the same way Sakamichi had done not many days ago, when he learned how beautiful life could be with love.

_Of the child of light_

"Saka-Sakamichi-please, do not-! This is not right, this is not fair! I have only met you. I have only just learned to love-"

Sakamichi pressed his hand to his face, against his lips, halting his words, "It will be alright, Akira. Let me sing for you." Midousuji shook his head. If Sakamichi sang now… "No. No. No. Please." He whispered, and Sakamichi pressed himself against his shoulder, "Please… Akira. Please…"

He could not deny him, and so, eyes wet and red, he nodded against him.

_The sea will taste sorrow, and the winds rage_

And Sakamichi sang for him, against his beating pulse, and even on the battleground, surrounded by violence and filth of man's savagery, the sound is so pure, so clean, filling Midousuji with golden light, with fierce life. Sakamichi sang, even as his breath became more and more ragged, and his voice trembled and waned.

He sang until his voice was only a whisper, only for Akira.

He sang until he could no more.

_and Peace will reign, from the death of..._

Sakamichi's body suddenly went limp in Midousuji's arms, and the lull of his voice disappeared into the roar of the ocean, silenced in the hard drops of the rain falling around them, and the thunder from the war that still ensued. Midousuji pulled Sakamichi to look at his face, hoping to only to find him asleep.

He looked empty, like someone had cruelly reached out and crushed the light of his life, like putting out a candle.

He looked…

No! Sakamachi was not- would never…

_a victim of fate..._

"Sakamichi! Open your eyes! Sa-Saka-"

Sakamichi didn't move and Midousuji shook him, desperate and anguished.

The ocean was so close, and the invaders were busy attacking the new raged troops that had just arrived.

The ocean!

Midousuji stumbled to his feet, Sakamichi still limp in his arms, as he made way to the crashing waves. The sea is cold as he ran into it, sinking all the way to his knees in the storming sea,

"Sakamichi! Wake! Please! Don't leave me! We have only just- We have only-"

The robes floated around him, billowing out in a glorious fashion, making him look as if he was a spirit descended from heaven, like the sun rising in the sky in the morn.

"Please!" Midousuji would kill a hundred times a hundred men for Sakamichi to open his unseeing eyes; the ones that could see right through him and found him worthy of love. He would die a million deaths if he could only see Sakamichi smile at him once more. He would, he would, he would….

But not all of the wishes of an assassin meant anything right now.

"Sakamichi…" He whispered, gripping his golden robes, "Sakamichi, I love you… I learned to love... I found love! Please come back, please… please don't leave me…"

There is no response.

Sakamichi was gone. His smile, his light, his love…. never to return.

And Midousuji mourned, clinging the body to him as the waters washed over them. Tears dripping into the dark storm waters, his cries of agony lost in the gales around them.

The Gods spoke then, thundering across the forest and the shore now tainted with blood, rumbling like a beaten drum. The thunder is quickly followed by light exploding across the sky. Midousuji is suddenly tossed back onto the shore as the waves came rolling high, and higher and higher still. The sea felt angry, felt wrathful, and the massive ships docked out at sea were at its mercy as the waves grew only bigger. The thunder boomed again, louder, more vengeful, and the wind whipped the trees around them, turning leaves into blades. Midousuji followed his fellow warriors, Sakamichi still clutched in his arms, into the underbrush, and the Mongols still on shore were swallowed by the sea in its fury.

They made it to the nearest village, finding refuge in the houses of farmers and merchants. They cowered under the power of nature, under the Divine Wind that swept the Mongols and their plans of domination from their land.

But all Midousuji did was watch the cold, pale figure of Sakamichi, laying in a cot and Lord Makishima, his father, gripping the limp dead hand of what use to be Sakamichi with his.

And though victory was theirs,

no one celebrated.

* * *

The ceremony was quiet, as the body of the most beautiful person was being burned, like the sun in the sky.

The typhoon had destroyed all the invaders, devastated their army to nothing, but desperate stragglers that the samurai cut down without mercy.

The gods had given them favor, some said. Others said it was the prophecy being fulfilled.

Midousuji wanted to cut out their tongues

Many attended, all who had been touched by Sakamichi's warmth, by his kindness, by his smile.

Many generals and Daimyos were present, from the Kings of the North, to Midousuji's own Lord, all now allies, in wake of the departure of an innocent life at the hands of enemies from across the sea.

After the cremation service, the ashes were collected and given to Lord Makishima, who bowed and took the urn. He did not cry, nor make a sound, regal and royal as always.

Alliances were declared and the new shoguns were put through ceremony, from the Kingdoms of Sho, Hanoe, Soh, and including him, to pledge their allegiance to the new company of defenders of the Land of the Rising Sun. Sakamichi would be proud, years of war ended with one death.

How fate played her games...

The four generals glanced at each other. Midousuji was the first to take out his blade, the one that he had constantly threatened Sakamichi with, the sacred blade that had once tasted his blood, and he slit open his palm. The stinging pain was nothing compared to the smouldering hate in his mind and the hollowness of his heart.

The other generals followed suit and together they let their blood intermingle on burning ashes.

Peace now reigned the land.

Sakamichi was right.

Midousuji wrapped his hand up and turned, his beautiful general robes whirling around him.

"Akira-dono."

He glanced back and saw the hunted expression of the Soh Kingdom's newest shogun, cold narrowed eyes of a man he once bested in a spar in their youth. "Yes?"

"Does rage also fill you? Or is this a chance to reap from what you did not sow."

The newly appointed general was not amused, and he wanted to fight with the shogun, but they were now allies, cursed allies, and there was only one enemy now. He ignored the glare of the shogun, and the wandering eyes of the other commanders, before speaking. "We are all here for the same reason. Sakamichi. It does not matter what was in the past. Do you disagree, Imaizumi-dono?"

The man flinched at the use of Sakamichi's name, and he gritted his teeth and turned away.

He can't feel any victory.

"Akira-dono." It was Lord Makishima this time that called to him, and Midousuji bowed to the approaching royal.

"Come with me, Shogun."

Midousuji stiffened and mutely followed the Lord out of the court. He had no need to obey, but he did so anyways.

Lord Makishima's robes were such a clash of colors as he followed him into the house. Sakamichi had always said he loved his father because he always did as he was told not to do, like making a blind abandoned commoner his son. What sadness that Sakamichi had never seen what his father wore.

The thought of him sent a numbing coldness down his spine, fear and anger making his heart stutter in his chest.

Midousuji followed the Lord into a room and his eyes widened as he recognized the lavish cozy quarter of Sakamichi's room. He had never entered through the door.

There was a servant there and the Lord quickly chased her out, closing the heavy door behind him.

It was quiet, and Midousuji only stared at the bed where he and Sakamichi had held many conversations, where Midousuji had first tasted love, became addicted to warmth.

"My son...Did you love him, Akira?"

The Lord's voice was only a murmur and Midousuji adverted his eyes as the Lord sat on the high bed.

He didn't say anything and just remembering, just thinking of the boy sent waves of pain through him.

"I am not deceived. I do not know how, or when, but you fell for my son, as many have. But I believe… I believe that he loved you also. He was different in those last days." The Lord sighed and touched the silk under his hands. "So, I will not punish you nor hold a grudge. If you made my son happy, made him want to live, then… I am thankful for that."

The Lord's eyes were red rimmed, and though he didn't see any tears now, he knew that he Lord is a man and in pain, in the very same way he is now. "So what drives you now, Akira-san?"

Midousuji paused and with resolution, he spoke.

"The gods gave me life and with the same hand took it from me. I live now only to bring our land to victory. If that is what Sakamichi died for, then even the emperor I will oppose."

Lord Makishima smiled, and it was utterly terrifying, "General, you speak treachery."

Midousuji stood straighter, "I speak only truth."

The Lord smoothed his hands over the silk, and then stood up, with all the grace of a Daimyo, "Then we shall kneel together and the same sword will pierce our hearts. I, too, stand for my son. I fear not the emperor, the Mongols, or death. All I fear now is the life without my son. Do you feel the same?"

Midousuji searched within himself, for the fear the Lord was speaking of, and yes, there beneath the numbness and wrath, and the consuming loneliness, was fear. Who was he now and how could he live?

"My son is gone, but his love, his light, remains. I do not fight for the land beneath my feet nor for the trees that sprout from the ground. I fight so that not another father shall have to suffer his son being taken from him, for the peace my son believed his death would bring. Finally, we are united. The wind is our friend and the sea our ally. We must fight."

Midousuji felt the power in his words and he bowed to the Lord.

War did ensue, but not amongst the Shoguns and their Daimyos, but against the barbarians across the sea. Midousuji was fated to be a Shogun and his strategic mind made victory reign over the land. He led with quick efficient strikes, destroying his enemies like an assassin in the night.

But when the battles ended, and Midousuji was alone, all he could think of was that night when a creature so beautiful danced for him and he felt what true, pure love felt like.

They were all victims of fate, pawns in her hands, and it was now that Midousuji wished for the quiet complete solace of death and hoped that when he was reborn, that he may have another chance to say all the words of praise and worship that grew dead in his mouth.

And Fate, in her divine ways, granted him his desire.

Years upon years later, a boy hurried to catch up with another boy, pedaling hard to ask a question, calling out just like in his previous life, with infectious joy and eternal kindness.

"_M-Midousuji-kun!"_

* * *

Notations:

I am VERY sorry. I will not do it again. ( I will try not to, at least)

and please ignore the historical inaccuracies. I gave up halfway through. Also, I do realize that all the characters are sort of OCC, but I went with the dramatic ancient love story motif. I hope you enjoyed it never the less.

This will be the last installment in a while as this was the last chapter I had prewritten. I will (with permission, of course) be writing some of the AUs that I have seen floating around. It simply must be done! If you have an AU or a headcanon that you would like to be written, send me a comment or email. Be warned, I must be inspired and I can only guarantee mediocre writing. But thank you for considering it!

Personal Note:

So I have officially written over 200 thousand words for Yowamushi Pedal fanfics (not all posted yet) and I don't know whether to be proud or ashamed.

(And my Beta, the lovely wonderful Prince, has suffered through all of them. I'm sorry, Prince.)

Either way, what an accomplishment.

So thank you for your kudos. And comments. They encourage me so much!

* * *

Chapter 10: Skyline

In Which Onoda finds the corporate world harrowing

Mood Music: _Something Good Can Come From This_ By Two Door Cinema


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